


These Notes that Remind me of You

by HolyTeapot



Series: These Notes that Remind me of You [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Orchestra, Anxiety, Classical Music, Duet, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Mutual Pining, Non-Binary Victor Nikiforov, Orchestra, Panic Attacks, Trans Yuri Plisetsky, alternative universe - musicians, performance anxiety
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-05
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-01-09 10:24:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 32,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12274482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyTeapot/pseuds/HolyTeapot
Summary: Katsuki Yuuri is a young and talented violinist who struggles to win competitions and pass auditions due to his performance anxiety. Victor Nikiforov is a former child prodigy and current virtuoso who dreams to become a music conductor, but whose rigid schedule prevents him from experimenting and learning more outside his own area of expertise.After Yuuri performs an arrangement of Liszt's Petrarch's Sonnet and the recording goes viral, Victor decides to travel to Japan to coach him, and take the occasion to start an orchestra - while trying to win the heart of his favourite violinist.





	1. Overture

**Author's Note:**

> Piece of music present in the episode:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qyl6fHvwv1U
> 
> Please take a few minutes to listen to it before starting to read the chapter. It will be worth it.

The sunlight cut through the dark room from the wide, bright window of the conservatoire.

  
Beside the window, barely lit by the beam of light, long, silver hair left loose weaved slightly in front of a piano.

 

_“And that was a superb interpretation by child prodigy Victor Nikiforov!”_

 

“He’s so good, isn’t he?” said Yuuko, stretching her back to get closer to the tv.

Yuuri didn’t answer. He was looking at the screen, barely blinking.

“I would love to play like that!”

“I bet I’m gonna be better than him!” cried Takeshi.

“I meant with the piano, silly! Didn’t you want to play the saxophone?”

“I will! I’m still gonna be better!” he winked at her “besides, a saxophone is more fun!”

Yuuko sighed “if you say so. Hey, Yuuri, what do you think?”

Yuuri winked a couple of times

“Uh?”

 

His fingers ran and danced on the keys, white on black, light on dark, a light ascending sound filling the room where speckles of dust where dancing.

From across the room, a young boy was watching in awe.

Yuuri kept his eyes closed. He breathed softly, trying not to be aware of the air coming out of his nose, of the air filling his lungs. It seemed so loud to him that he feared it could have ended that special moment.

He felt his heart beating in his chest; his head was feeling light, his feet were not on the ground.

He was flying.

And it was Victor’s music to make him soar.

 

The same fingers hit the piano gently. He seemed to modulate to another key. His short fringe danced on his eyes as he moved his shoulders and let his body flow with the music.

Passion and calm, the intensity of emotion without the ugliness of reality, but the crude reality without flowerings and embellishments, presented like a natural part of the universe, making you feel smaller, but cosy, reassured that everything was in its place. And that everything was moving.

Planets, and stars, and asteroids, and meteors. Nebulae, black holes; it was a force that transcended normal human understanding. It was like a volcano exploding under the deep, deep ocean.

And yet it made you feel like you could fly, and be everywhere at once, connected with everything at once.

 

The music reached its end with grace.

 

Victor’s silver head reflected the sunlight from the window as he turned. He looked at Yuuri.

Yuuri nodded “Mh.”


	2. Da Capo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri comes back to Hasetsu after a difficult year.
> 
> Da Capo: an instruction to repeat the beginning of the piece before stopping on the final chord.

2.

That semester had been a disaster.

 

Yuuri took his passport back from the boot of the guard checking his identity at the airport.

He pocketed it and gave a pull to the blue violin case hanging from his back, dragging his large suitcase down the corridor.

 

First of all, he blew his spring performance exam.

 

Then he suddenly forgot how to play at his masterclass on the following week, and straight up refused to play during the third match of a competition. He reached the second piece, stopped playing, bowed, and exited the room without a word.

His professor was livid. Kept asking him what was wrong.

 

Well, a lot of things.

 

First, he had to replace all the chords on his violin on the very same day of the competition, because he bumped into one of the competitors (a Canadian guy playing the trumpet), and ended up hitting the wall. He saved the instrument from total destruction, but three out of four chords snapped, and the remaining fourth followed them while he was replacing the other three.

Celestino, his tutor, freaked out at him for freaking out, and hurried to get him a new set of strings (not the most expensive, but still quite so), and came back just in time for his turn. He had ran off to the nearest shop, and when he had come back Yuuri was hanging up a call from his mother, who had called five minutes earlier - “I was going to call you earlier, how was the concert?” “well, there has… mom, are you okay? You sound like you were crying” – right in time to know that his childhood dog, Vicchan, had passed away. Just because he needed to be more upbeat than usual, right?

To complicate things, he had just come from a week of really, really intense studying at a masterclass - where shyness and anxiety got him completely paralysed and unable to make it to the final ensemble - led by conductor Yakov Feltsman, who was also the tutor of his favourite musician. Said musician was meant to substitute his teacher on the final rehearsals as Yakov had to run back to St. Petersburg.   
If he did, Yuuri could not say, because that very day he had a panic attack and insisted on not moving and stay put underneath his blankets. He waited for Phichit to be out of the room to join the orchestra, and practised on his own instead.

 

He let the automatic stairs carry him down to the ground floor, already thinking about the best way to break to his family that he passed all of his exam with the best of grades… except for his performance exam, which he would have to repeat that autumn if he wanted to graduate. He was sure his mom would not mind, but he felt a bit guilty since it was her money he was spending to attend the conservatoire.

 

_“What about a pic together? Eh?”_

After he flipped his performance at the second movement he went away to cryin the bathroom, where he was met by young violin prodigy Yuri Plisetsky, who candidly yelled at him to go find some job more suitable for his fat fingers and to stop wasting everyone’s time.

And all that time all he could think of was whether _he_ was there, with Yuri, and whether he had seen his failure along all of Vipolže.

He tried to get out as soon as he could, with his tutor talking about dinner and a banquet being held for the participants on the last day, and how Phichit was probably already eating lunch without them.

 

They had just reached the main hall when he spotted him.

A tall, platinum blond, gorgeous man, holding a red violin case, lost in thought as Yakov – Yuuri hid behind Celestino’s shoulder – scolded a young Yuri for being there instead of practising for his _own_ competition, goddammit.

Victor turned his head around.

Yuuri felt a punch to his stomach as the man made eye contact with him.

Did he recognise him from the competition? Did Yakov tell him how worthless his violin playing was? Would he recognise him?

And then he smiled.

“Hey, what about a pic together? Eh?”

 

Yuuri sighed, as he reached the main hall of the airport.

Of all the ways to meet your hero, that was the worst.

He passed in front of some posters, that…

 

No, wait.

 

He turned back.

 

And then stared at the posters, as he felt his whole body petrifying and ready to be stone from now to the rest of eternity.

 

They were posters of him.

 

Playing.

 

Playing the violin. 

 

He did not know that those picture even existed.

 

And he certainly wasn’t aware of the A2 posters the airport seemed to be splattered with.

 

“Yuuri!”

His petrified body found its way back to movement surprisingly quickly as he jumped and nearly crashed against the poster-ridden wall, with the hope he wouldn’t have to change his strings again.

“Mi-Minako!”

The woman grinned, flaunting her slim hands into a pose.

“Hello!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everybody! This is the second chapter! I am aware there might be quite some typos - I wanted to post it on time and I did my best to double check every word, but as I haven't slept tonight I wouldn't really trust myself to have done a good job.  
> We are still following the show's storyline. I want to give the character similar premises before I take off to a different direction.   
> Next chapter will feature Victor.


	3. Legato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A concert in two continents. Two players. We all know where this is going.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music pieces:  
> Rachmaninoff Piano Concerto:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yJpJ8REjvqo
> 
> Chopin, Mazurka op. 30 no. 1:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XtvERtb4tNo
> 
> Liszt, Petrarch's Sonnet 123:   
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jKIRtPp25RI

Minako looked at Yuuri with the look of someone who was eating at an edgy restaurant for the first time and was trying to understand if the cheese on their plate was mouldy or just very fancy and old.

  
“How are the students?” asked Yuuri, trying to bring up a new topic with the same tone of voice of a kid who was trying to sweeten their mother before she realised they broke the shower while playing pirates.   
“Oh, you know, same old, same old. Hasetsu's population is going downhill, and no one really wants to learn anything about music theory anyway.”  
“That’s a pity. Is the concert hall still open?”  
“Oh, yes, Yuuko took over the family business.”  
“Really?”   
“Mind you, she mainly deals with the paperwork. Quite a shame, if I have to be honest. Were it for me I would be preparing her for some more competitions, but she says that she doesn’t have time for the piano with the triplets and all.”  
“That’s… a pity.” Yuuko had always been excellent at piano; she had been the first teacher Yuuri ever had before he found out he really wanted to play the violin.

  
“Takeshi is the main teacher there. You should go say hi.”  
“I… thank you, yes. I will.”

 

 

  
The working lights of the concert hall in Budapest were turned off as the light on the main stage was pointed towards the orchestra.

  
The orchestra had been personally chosen by Iván Fischer, who had been invited to take part into the competition as a judge for new talents, and was preparing to perform Rachmaninov’s Piano Concert no.2 op. 18 as conclusive part of the festival that involved all the winners from the Vipolže competition.

  
As the lights were focusing more and more intensely on the stage, the elegant figure of the conductor walked at the centre of the orchestra, greeted by a waterfall of clapping and cheering.

He gestured with his hand towards the entrance, and the rainfall of clapping started again from small drops to a warm summer shower as a tall man entered, his silver hair shining against the bright light of the auditorium.

The man bowed to the audience, and sit on the grand piano next to the conductor.

  
The first part of the programme consisted in Rachmaninov’s Piano Concerto no. 2.

  
The second part of the programme was a series of Opera arias, the ones brought by the three winners of the singing category of the competition. Presented in opposite order from third winner to first winner, the first one, sung by bass-baritone Georgi Popovich, was “Der Erlkoenig" by Schubert; the second piece, sung by Michele Crispino, was “Amor ti Vieta di non Amare” by Giordano, while the third, sung by Mila Babicheva, was an interpretation of “Ah, je veux vivre dans ce reve” by Gounod.

  
The third part was a series of piano pieces by virtuoso Nikiforov, starting with Mazurka Op.30 No.1 in C minor by Frederick Chopin, continuing with Litsz’ Sonnet no. 123 by Petrarch, and concluding with Valses Romantiques no. 4 by Clara Schumann.

  
The lights focused on stage leaving the audience in the dark. Slowly, the clapping ceased, leaving only silence.

Fischer looked a Nikiforov.

A nod. 

The first chord echoed like a drop falling on a lake in a long forgotten cave. 

The second followed after, echoing on a pool of dark water.

The third chased after it; then the fourth, stronger and more definite; and the fifth: faster, stronger; the sixth, the seventh, and so on until a whole river flowed down, a river of sounds of strings and brass that shaped the path of the water the piano was creating in the imagination of the audience.

 

“He’s not bad. I mean,” said Minako, eating in front of the tv. Watching the Festival’s concert at the Katsukis was a long established tradition.

“The programme is a bit depressing.”  
“Oh, I love the piano! It reminds me when Yuuri used to play it!” cheered Hiroko Katsuki “where is he, by the way?”  
“He said he was going to say hi to Yuuko” explained her husband from the kitchen “I guess he will be watching the concert at their house.”  
“Oh, the triplets won’t miss it, for sure!”  
“He’s not missing much, anyway;” said Minako “there is something about Nikiforov that started to get dull this year. It’s like hearing the same recording over and over again.”

 

 

  
A concert was work, and good work. Victor knew that. It was the kind of work he always wanted to put effort in: to shape something for everyone to enjoy, to let children imagine the distant world and stories he used to imagine when he first listened to classical music.

He liked playing the piano, he loved music, he couldn’t see himself anywhere else.

So why couldn’t he help but wishing he was anywhere else but there in that moment?

As his fingers danced on the piano, he felt nothing. Rachmaninov used to electrify him: the challenge, the energy that felt like a torrent flowing through your veins, bursting your heart with emotions that flowed through your fingers and connected you with your instrument and to your surroundings, touching the ears and the hearts of people.

  
He loved Rachmaninov. He loved that concert. He chose it with the conductor because he connected so strongly to it.

  
So why as soon as his fingers played a chord or a note, he felt the sound fleeting away, without the chance of capturing the emotion, of grasping the intensity of that sound, without being able to feel what he was playing?

  
He glanced at the director: he did not seem to realise that something was not right.

His mind was off, his whole soul was somewhere else. He had never played so mechanically before.

He wanted to end it all with a clashing chord and just go away to drink a bottle of gin on his own.

But he couldn’t, because a concert was sacred, a concert was work, and good work, work he spent his whole life preparing for.

  
The strings were building up as he started a low echoing of deep sounds. A magical river inside a cave in Russia. It reminded him of a fairytale he read as a kid. 

But then it also reminded him of nights passed without sleeping, your thoughts flowing through your chest, your heart pumping blood in your throat, your throat keeping tears at bay until you broke down and fell asleep like that, all because of a stupid nostalgia, of a fleeting emotion he felt once, that dissolved before he could catch it and treasure it inside his heart.

  
A smile he could imagine, but he could not remember with precision; soft eyes that looked at him. But were those even his eyes, or did his memory fail him? 

He put a lot of his frustration in the chords as he played _fortissimo_. Goddammit.   
He really felt like a mess, that day.

He could not even understand why.

He had won the competition for the seventh time in a row, with his second instrument, no less. He had just come from Berlin where he had a concert with the Philharmonic, he was awaited in New York in three days for the rehearsals of Poulenc.   
The violins started the final section.

It could not be explained, but those brown eyes were so ingrained inside his mind’s eyes, nothing else could get in. Not even music.

 

 

He started the second movement thinking about the dance he shared with that musician at the closure party of the competition.

  
His fingers touching his soft hands, his left hand on the hard fabric of his suit, the damp shirt of the Japanese man, hot with sweat and stained with champagne on his own chest. 

The blue of the tie he had put on his soft black hair, on the dear head which he hold while dancing. 

His black eyelashes, so long, caressing his cheeks red with alcohol, hiding his soft brown eyes, that seemed to hug him and comfort him in ways he could not describe. 

Those brown eyes he could not stop thinking about, which enchanted him so deeply he wished he could see them once again, and stare at them for the rest of his life. 

A laugh ringed in his head: it was soft, like the eyes and the hair and the cheeks red with alcohol and for too much dancing. 

His hug as he held him close while they danced seemed to echo on his chest everytime he breathed out.

Those Japanese words he did not know the meaning of whispered in his ears. Could he love an accent he could not even properly recognise? Could he love a voice he was not sure he could still remember accurately?

  
It all came to him while he was playing, and was so focused on that thought he forgot that he was in a full concert hall playing Rachmaninov.

  
Shit.

Did he mess up? Did he play all the right notes so far? Was the orchestra still following him?

  
He gave a worried look at the conductor, who made him a discrete sign to listen to the orchestra, something he had done during rehearsals, generally to other musicians; but it seemed that no major mishap had happened.

  
He continued the spiral of notes going high, and then circling low like water on the drain of a sink, and getting higher again, stopping for the orchestra.

  
That was the start of his solo: he focused on what he was doing instead of trying to imagine something – it was better that way.

As he played a trill, the orchestra came in softly again, and he repeated the main theme of the movement, trying not to think about ebony hair and soft hands that caressed his fingers like silk.

 

 

Yuuko Nishigori heard the doorbell of the main door of the Hall ringing. 

“Oh, shi…” she ran from the tea room to the reception “sorry, we are closed, I…” she stopped and smiled.

“Yuuri!”

  
“Hello, Yuuko.”

“You’re back!”

“Yes… sorry, I was wondering… I know there is the concert today, but… I was wondering if I could use the studio?”

“Oh, sure! Do come!”

“Thank you. Also…” Yuuko started to look at her keys to find the one for the studio.

“I was wondering if you could hear me playing?”

She smiled.

 

 

“I tried to adapt this as soon as I knew Nikiforov was going to play it at the concert” said Yuuri, while taking out his violin out the blue case “it’s Litsz. I couldn’t find an arrangement for violin so I made one myself.”

“And here I thought you’d be depressed.”

“I was” Yuuri straightened his bow “then I got tired of having my violin in a corner. I needed to play. Physically needed to play. You get what I mean?”

Yuuko nodded.

“So I got to work. And Victor had just posted that video of himself practising, so I thought of playing that.”

“That’s great! Can you pass me the music sheet next time?”

“Er…” Yuuri blushed “It’s in my head. All of it.”

Yuuko sighed “Oh, well. So, Mr. perfect ear, show me what you got!”  


 

  
The crowd cheered at Mila Babicheva as she bowed to them, and then held Victor’s hand.

She winked at him with no malice, but the satisfaction of whom has gone together through a journey and had finally reached the end of it.

Victor bowed to her as she went out of the room.

 

  
Now it would have been a no-stop performance until the bolero in the end.

 

He started the cheerful Mazurka, trying to desperately find the cheerfulness and the fun he experienced from practicing it.

The notes were right, the tempo was right, the dynamics were the right ones.

His technique was flawless. He knew that. He could play Rachmaninov’s third concerto, he could play Ravel’s Gaspard de la nuit, he could play Bartok’s Sonata for two Piano and Percussions with little to no problems, just to mention a few that he had to study in the past year for concerts in Vienna, Hong Kong, and New York, and Berlin.

So why did he feel like something was missing?

 

 

 

Litsz.

Sonnet 123 by Petrarch.

Victor had changed the programme last minute after the end of the competition.

The suggestion had been met with surprise, but not so much of a shock as the pianist had been known to be unpredictable in the past.

It was the only flaw of working with him, really. And was only that changeable when he had to play solos, too respectful of others’ work to go and mess things around there.

Yuri Plisetsky, on the second row of the first violins, gave him a scornful look. He knew why he suddenly changed his performance. Personally, he thought it was a bad choice. That song was sweet, sugary… very boring and very likely to induce a deep sleep on the audience and the rest of the orchestra.

 

Victor took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, straightened his shoulders.

He thought of ebony hair, and soft brown eyes under long black lashes.

Then he started.

It was like describing a placid scene from a garden at dusk.

The red light of the sun was still filtering in the sky, but the trees and the flowers were already embraced by the shadow of the night.

A pool of water, dark and placid, extended its waves gently led by the warm wind of summer.

The leading voice soon differentiated itself from the rest of the voices.

_That vague pallor which had covered_

_the sweet smile with a loving mist_   
_with such majesty gave itself to the heart_   
_that it showed on the face it met there._

  
Two lovers were in the garden.

They were walking hand in hand, and smiling gently at each other. Just smiling, and looking at each other, walking step by step linked through their fingers, thumbs rubbing gently on each other’s skin.

 

The violinist who smiled at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world, and took his hand and drew him to an evening of dance and laughter. He tried to remember the smell of his skin, coated underneath all the alcohol.

It was fresh and sweet, like peaches in summer, or a bush of jasmine flowers.

_Then I knew how those in paradise_   
_see one another, in such a way it came_   
_that pitiful thought that no other saw_   
_but which I saw, for I can’t take my gaze away._

  
In another continent, Yuuri Katsuki imagine the piano underneath its sound.

He imagined Victor Nikiforov playing beside him. His idol accompanying him.

He started softly, and crescendo he lead his sound up, and then down.

Every start of the same sequence he would start louder, to get back to a soft piano.

He thought of the waves on the sea of Hasetsu, lit by the stars in autumn.

He thought of the first time he ever heard Victor Nikiforov play the piano. How his child’s chest was immediately filled with warmth and love for the music he was hearing, and admiration for the young man who was playing it.

Yuuko looked at him, and was so enchanted by the quick sequence of his fingers that she did not even hear the door opening and closing next to her chair.

  
_Each angelic vision, each humble act_   
_which had appeared in women in love_   
_would be scorn compared to that one I mean._   
_He had never met anyone like that._

He could still recall the trill of _his_ soft laughter, and the feeling of his hair on his neck as he embraced him and asked him to accompany him with the piano.

  
He was a famous man, a former child prodigy, a virtuoso; he was called in many countries by many conductors, and he received fan letters quite often.

Music lovers talked to him with reference, like he was made of glass, and risked to break with any strong word.

He had many people following in on social media.

  
And yet, he never felt so touched by a request before. He had never been asked before.

People considered him a genius, a unique talent to grow and keep safe. Some considered him a sex symbol, and wanted him in other ways.

  
But the way Katsuki Yuuri interacted with him during the banquet was different. It was spontaneous, it wasn’t so avoidant as the fans he met so often, nor was it blunt and aggressive like the way young Yuri treated him. It wasn’t the fatherly frustration Yakov showed him many times. It wasn’t the lust people who approached him in bars showed to him.   
It was gentle, and sweet, and chest filling; he took him and drew him in a whirlwind of playfulness; everything he did, albeit drunk, and wearing only his pants and his unbuttoned shirt, and a tie on his head, and albeit pole-dancing at a certain point, was somehow pure.

And yet it lit a flame in him he couldn’t smother no matter what he did.

_Those gentle eyes faced the ground,_   
_and silently said, as it seemed to me:_   
_Who takes my faithful friend away from me?_

  
Yuuri’s fingers trilled and the sound went up, and then down in a scale, slowing the tempo; he alternated the leading voice with the low chords that accompanied the main melody.

  
Victor created low waves with his piano in Hungary.

Yuuri responded with the soprano voice of his violin in Japan.

Victor created more waves, to which Yuuri responded a moment later.

And slowly, very slowly, the piece reached a conclusion.

 

 

“Oh, my!” Yuuko jumped on Yuuri, who immediately opened his arms to get both violin and bow out of her reach. He managed not to fall and make a disaster.

“Yuuri! That was amazing!” she said.

“Thanks.”

“Are you going to bring that to a competition?”

“No, I… uh, eh… hi.”

Yuuko turned, to see her triplets giggling while doing something on their phones.

“aaaand sent!”

“WHAT?”

“Dude, this is going to get viral!”

“What have you three done?! I am so grounding you!”

“Mom, come on, he was great!”

“What is happening here?”

Takeshi entered the room “Seriously, this is meant to be sound proofed and I can still hear you! The bolero is going to start… oh, hello, Yuuri!”

“Hi, Takeshi!” Yuuri smiled. Takeshi used to be that annoying band kid who would blast his music at seven in the morning, nine in the evening, and literally every time he could take out the saxophone.

Which meant he became quite good at it.

“They grew up quite a lot since you last saw them, uh?” He said, patting his daughters.

They did.

“They are starting band this year. Axel started the trumpet, Lutz the clarinet, and Loop is on the drums! Not bad, uh?”

Lutz poked on the phone “Hey, Yuuri, you got a thumb up!”

“What… I what?”

She turned the screen towards him.

Yuuri’s eyes widened as he looked on the smartphone Lutz showed him with a video of him playing the violin and the title “VIRTUOUS KATSUKI YUURI PLAYS CHOPIN LIKE VICTOR NIKIFOROV”

He did not know what Yuuko shouted at the kids after that, as he was too busy feeling like a centenary old man with arthritis trying to bungee jump for the first time without a harness. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other named pieces:  
> Erlkoenig: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jZxzz-N3oxM  
> Amor ti Vieta di non Amar: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XIu1mn_91aA  
> Je Veux Vivre Dans ce Réve: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PRDtTBiXVu8  
> Boleo: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dZDiaRZy0Ak
> 
> The pieces Victor can play:  
> Ravel, Gaspard de la Nuit: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hKgcHjq1xKQ  
> Rachmaninov's Third Concerto: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MOOfoW5_2iE  
> Bartok's Sonata for two Pianos and Percussions: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wuOWoOyeuWU
> 
> As usual there might be mistakes! Please let me know if you noticed any typo!  
> I hope you enjoyed the story so far!


	4. Intermezzo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A small chat with Christophe.

A week later, Nikiforov was in his apartment in St. Petersburg, his dog Makkachin resting on his legs as he was “answering emails” (read: scrolling on social media) and “getting back to people” (read: chatting with Chris, the clarinet who held first chair in Budapest).  


  _> >  Yo, how is my favourite prodigy today?_

Victor gave a short smile.

               _Hi, Chris! :D <<_

_> > Still listening to sad violin music?_

             _Just on a break. I am preparing for a concert. <<_

_> > What will you be playing?_

_Mussorgsky >:C Pictures at an exposition. And then La Voix Humaine. <<_

_> > You’re not happy with that?_

_No, it’s not that, I just… I just think I need a break, that’s all <<_

_> > Oh_

_> > Okay_

_> > I thought you had one after the Festival._

_It was only two days before Yakov got me on a ten hours routine again. <<_

_> > So you’ve been on strict regime since then?_

_House arrest from Mephistopheles himself, yes <<_

_> > Sooo I conclude you haven’t seen the video of that sweet sweet Japanese guy?_

 

Victor’s heart skipped. He had been knowing Christ long enough to know two things about him: he never missed the opportunity to make a dirty joke about his clarinet, and he always knew how to get his attention.

 

            _No, who? <<_

_> > So, you remember the violinist who got pissed at Vipolže, right? ;-)_

_He flipped from the sofa, throwing Makkachin on the ground._

_YUURI?! <<_

_> > Did he contact you in the end?_

_No, I don’t think he had my number. <<_

_> > Well, I think you need to see this, then! ;-) www.dutube.com/watch?v=QyleiuOW_

He clicked on the link and waited as his heart started running a marathon.

Ebony hair

Touch as delicate as velvet

Long eyelashes keeping the gates of the warmest eyes he ever saw

 

And a fingering that would make Fritz Kreisler smile with approval.

He tried to think.

               _Chris, do you remember why Katsuki wasn’t at the Festival? <<_

_> > I thought he didn’t get the place?_

 

He didn’t? It wasn’t possible: as long as you came fourth you could get a place at least as a third violin in the orchestra. Did that mean that he didn’t get the fourth place?

 

               _At what round was he eliminated? <<_

_> > Jeez, I don’t know! He was at the banquet, so on the last round? Second round?_

_Dammit, that was not right._

_Hey, Chris, I need to go back to practice. Can you see if you can find more videos of him? Pls! <<_

_> > Eheheh, always here to help my friend with his crushes! :D_

_Also, can you check for me how much tickets from St. Ptsb to Hasetsu are?_

_> > … You want me to do what now?_

 

\--

_> > It will be like Papageno flying into the sunset, that’s all I’m saying._

_Stop teasing me, it won’t be nothing of the sort. <<_

_> > Right. Do you have a plan?_

_Sure I do! Get to his house <<_

_(he said he lived in the hasetsu hot springs) <<_

_And tell him I accept to be his tutor. :D <<_

_I’m on the plane right now!  :DD <<_

_> > Oh, dear! Does Yakov know?_

_I think he’s still yelling at me! He managed to follow me till the gate! :D Don’t ask <<_

_> > What did he say?_

_That if I ever step back in Russia he’s making sure to tie me to the study room :-( <<_

_It was like, you know that one aria? <<_

_> > … which one of the millions that have been wrote?_

_Nevermind. Anyway, what do you think of the plan? I don’t have much time. <<_

_> > Sounds nice. Just a suggestion_

_Shoot away! <<_

_> > Take your clothes off! ;-)_

 

He burst out laughing on the plane. Only Chris could spit out such a ridiculous idea!

… or was it?

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is really short, I know, but I prefer not to drag things just for the sake of length (especially since I will try to keep said length standard by uploading more short chapters on a same date).
> 
> If you missed the Papageno reference, it is from Mozart's "The Magic Flute". Papageno is a bird-catcher who longs for a mate. He meets his mate by using a magic music box that works like a bird-call, but the first encounter is briefed as they are interrupted by a wise-man, saying that he is "not ready yet". They meet again at the end of the opera and have a lovely duet, check it out.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=87UE2GC5db0


	5. Allegretto

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We all know what's happening here who are we fooling why are you even looking at the summary.

It was snowing.

 

In Hasetsu.

 

It was snowing.

It wasn’t even winter.

 

Why was it snowing?

 

Yuuri got out of his bed and pushed away his phone. No more calls and texts, please, he thought.

 

“Yuuri, come help out!” his mother shouted.

 

He put on his boots and his jacket. It was better this way. Better to get his hands busy with other things so he might stop thinking about that stupid video. It’s not like Victor Nikiforov had seen it after all.

 

What if he did though?

 

What would he say?

 

He passed through the kitchen while his father was saying something he could not quite catch.

He needed coffee.

 

Maybe he agreed with Plisetsky, saying he was a failure.

Maybe he was a laughing stock at St. Petersburg now. Maybe he was a meme.

 

He opened the main door.

Better to keep that phone off for another while.

 

And then he was on the ground.

 

 

 

What he had just experienced was a big mass of brown fluff coming at him and grounding him with the weight of a big boulder. A big, fluffy boulder who, to be honest, reminded him a lot of…

“Vicchan?”

What a stupid thought. The dog was much bigger, and had white hair on his ears and nose, which means he was also quite older than Vicchan was when he… well.

 

“Oh, right. That’s the dog of the new guest. It looks a lot like Vicchan, doesn’t it?” smiled his mother, squatting to pet the big dog, who kept turning from Yuuri to his mother expectantly.

“A new guest?”

“Oh, yes, a foreigner. He looked a bit like – ”

Yuuri did not hear the rest of the sentence because Yuuri’s heart had start going at the same pace of Beethoven’s “Presto Agitato” from the Moonlight Sonata. Which meant a lot faster than what his thoughts could follow.

“Where?!”

“He went to the hot baths, he…”

And Yuuri was gone running all over the building, making high pitched noises and trying to brush the anxiety off his brain, which of course wasn’t working very well at all.

 

He had already ran through five different ways of apologising and asking “Mr Nikiforov please don’t sue me for that video it was not my idea!” when he reached the hot spring where the man was sitting, naked.

 

Yuuri gulped.

Mozart on a bicycle.

 

The pianist smiled as he glanced back at him.

“Yuuri!” he waved.

And then he stood…

 

He stood up…

 

He stood up from the pool…

Oh, Johann Sebastian Bach.

 

Yuuri gulped, trying to take his eyes away from that smooth skin wet by the hot water that flowed down from his wide chest to his abs, to…

He put a hand on his face, fully convinced that it would have soon got so hot and red that his head would have exploded and took him away from the whole situation. Could a person die of embarrassment? Cause he felt he was going to.

 

“Yuuri!” The Russian said in his accented English “From today I shall be your tutor!”

 

Yuuri looked at the naked man.

 

And blinked.

 

And blinked again.

 

“Eh?”

 

He shook his head, incapable to filter his own reactions anymore.

“WHAT?!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the Presto Agitato: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zucBfXpCA6s  
> It's... very fast and anxiety-inducing.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's welcome is not as warm as Victor expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Music in the piece:  
> Chopin Waltz Op. 64 No. 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wTSu1jjKpgI  
> Chopin Nocturne Op. 9 No. 1 in B Flat Minor: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZtIW2r1EalM  
> Grieg, Morning Mood: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PtRElExQTfc  
> Schubert, Impromptu Op. 90 No. 2: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3WWZQyPs30  
> De Falla, Danza Ritual del Fuego: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u8nfVLpJ1w0

“Here… here is the room” Yuuri’s voice trembled, opening a big sliding door.

“Wow! A piano!” said Victor, his head way too close to Yuuri’s neck.

Yuuri felt his cheek tightening and getting warmer.

Makkachin ran into the room and started sniffing around.

 “yeah, I… I played when I was little, yeah…”

“That’s nice!” Victor smiled “Can I hear something? As your tutor I should know your musical level with all instruments!”

“Maybe… maybe another time!”

“Yuuuriii…” Victor blowed on Yuuri’s neck.

Yuuri gasped, and jumped against the door.

 

“Are you okay?”

“Yes? Yes! Another time maybe? I’m getting you a duvet!”

And he stormed out of the room.

 

Victor took out his phone. No signal. He sighed.

 

                           I don’t think getting naked was a good idea after all <<  
                                                                                             (not sent)

                        He seems so cold, maybe I just read too much into it? <<  
                                                                                             (not sent)

                                                      He invited me here at the banquet <<  
              I don’t understand…I thought he would be happy to see me? <<  
                                                                                             (not sent)

 

He stared at the phone. Of course Chris wouldn’t be able to read those. It just comforted him to write it down.

 

Yuuri came back with some blankets. He hesitated when he saw him.

 

Victor smiled, as he walked in the middle of the room “That’s quite a quaint room!”

 

“Yeah, we hadn’t used it in a while, I hope it’s okay.” Said Yuuri, hurrying to put the duvet on the mattress.

 

Victor stretched his fingers “Do you think I can play something on the piano?” he said, sitting on the stool.

 

“Ah, no, I think…”

 

His hand went for a chord.

_Duuung._

 

 

The metaphorical room temperature magically dropped by twenty degrees.

 

 

“Ah… it’s out of tune!” smiled Victor, laughing awkwardly.

 

Yuuri felt like summoning all chthonian deities to swallow him at once.

 

“Ah… Ah, I’ll have someone called in to tune it tomorrow!” he gasped.

Victor waved a hand “No need, I can do it.”

“Although…” He stood up, opening the vertical piano’s case. “I shall need some tools. Is there a music school nearby that might have it?”

“Ah, the Nishigori Music School at the Concert Hall!”

Victor turned towards him, eyes glittering “Wow! You have a school at the Concert Hall? Amazing!”

“It’s really just a small Concert Hall…”

“We can do it tomorrow, then!” he chirped.

“Now, Yuuri…” he wet his lips and put a hand down Yuuri’s right shoulder “tell me about you...”

 

Yuuri gulped. Victor’s smile didn’t faint; he just looked at him expectantly.

 

Then he got closer, the perfume of his skin reaching Yuuri “... like, what music do you like to play? What was your first concerto?” he slid his hand from Yuuri’s shoulder down to his arm, and took Yuuri’s hand “Whose composer do you feel closest to?”

 

His fingers felt like silk, his touch was very light.  

 

Yuuri felt like his brain was going to break down like an old windows 98 computer after you opened two programmes at once.

 

“What do you feel when you play your violin?” Victor breathed in his ear.

 

He brought Yuuri’s hand to his face.

 

“Is there any special meal you like to eat before playing?” He played with Yuuri’s fingers, looking at him.

 

Yuuri felt stabbed by those icy blue eyes.

 

“Do you prefer to practice early in the morning or in the evening?” he kissed his knuckles.

 

Yuuri jumped away and fell down clashing on some of Victor’s boxes.

 

“Yuuri?”

 

“So- sorry!” He stood up, reached the door. He bowed “I’m sorry! Goodnight!”

 

Victor’s smile faded.

 

He was left alone.

 

 

Makka came close to his legs and whined. Victor fell sitting on the mattress, his eyes teary.

 

“What did I do wrong, Makka?” he asked, petting the dog’s ears.

 

He checked his phone. No signal.

 

He opened the gallery. He still had the pictures from the banquet. Yuuri dancing with Yuri. Yuuri pole dancing with Chris. A video of Yuuri playing the Entertainer on the piano with his tie on his head and wearing only underwear. A few pictures Chris had sent him.

 

Yuuri dancing with him.

 

Hands holding hands.

 

Fingers caressing fingers.

 

A sweaty shirt against Victor’s chest.

 

Dark ebony hair wet with sweat, perfume smelling strong from his neck.

 

Brown velvet eyes looking at him through those long black lashes.

 

He sighed. He’d made himself cry.

 

He really thought it would be different. He wanted to call Chris, he wanted to call his family. Anyone, he just wanted to talk to someone. About anything.

 

Instead, he was alone in a country where the only person he knew behaved like they never met before. Like they never danced together, or held hands, or hand chatted and danced the night away. He laid down on his mattress. The smell was so different from his house in St. Petersburg. He held Makka.

And slowly, one thought at a time, he fell asleep.

 

 

Chopin. Waltz op. 64 no. 2

 

It was the first thought that jumped into Yuuri’s head. Someone had left the tv turned on too loud.

 

He faced the ceiling, closing his eyes. The notes were following one another in a game of chase, jumping on the chords like kids playing Hopscotch. One, two, three. One, two, three.

 

The clear sound was like autumn rain gently hitting the window, or the words of a lover written on a letter with an elegant, old calligraphy. The sweetness alternated the game, the game of chase, the overflow of feeling alternated with the calm expression of love.

 

Love as a contradiction of confusion, misunderstanding, and resolution to perfect harmony.

 

He followed the line of the song. It seemed to him he recognised the player, someone must have…

 

Oh, no.

 

Oh, shit.

 

He jumped off the bed and ran towards the living room. He had asked his sister not to take out his  recordings of Victor Nikiforov. So it must have been his mother.

 

He slowed down as the sound got closer.

 

He stopped.

He was in front of Victor’s door.

His mother, his father, his sister, and more or less all the rest of the people in the resort were there too.

“Oh, Yuuri, good morning!” whispered his mother “he’s rather good, isn’t he?”

Yuuri nodded.

“Do you think he plays professionally?” asked his dad.

His sister made a face “Duh! Dad, he’s Nikiforov!”

“Who?”

“The man on the telly, dear, the one Minako was watching last night!”

“Aaah! Is he? No wonder he’s so good, then!”

Yuuri sighed: they were making so much noise.

 

His mother put her hand on her mouth “I think we need to leave him, now, dear. We spent too much time already doing nothing!” she smiled “it’s such good music, though!” she took her husband by the arm.

 

She nodded at Yuuri as if she wanted to push him to go through that door, and then she led her husband and the rest of the group away.

 

 

Yuuri watched them go. Then he focused on the music.

 

It was enchanting.

 

He stayed still, afraid that any other noise of distraction might have interrupted the playing.

A free concert from Victor Nikiforov. It was rare.

More than that, it was impossible. That man was one of the most booked musicians of the twenty-first century.

 

The chase continued. There was something about Nikiforov’s way of playing Chopin. Chopin did usually give you an idea of nostalgia, the kind of feeling you have in the evening when you are completely relaxed, and it is raining outside, and you have a warm cup of tea in your hand, and think about the smell of the rain and how much you would love to share this moment with someone else; but Victor’s playing, it was different.   
It was hard to explain.

It was like stepping inside a book: images were given to you, you could follow a precise story.

Yuuri closed his eyes.

Victor had passed to the Nocturno op. 9 no 1. B flat minor. It was a slower piece. It was more melancholic. The slow notes falling with the cyclic arpeggio of the low notes made him imagine what the snow in St Petersburg was like.

There was a hint of something… solitude? It was like a person playing on the moon was trying to recite poetry to the stars with a calm voice and glittering eyes, but the voice was not coming out, and that made him frustrated. The music got louder.

 

Then softer.

 

A crescendo.

 

A diminuendo.

 

He shifted his weight on the floor.

 The music stopped.

 

Then it started again with Grieg’s “morning mood”.

Yuuri laughed. He opened the door.

 

“Good morning, Yuuri!” chirped Victor, without taking his eyes away from the piano.

Yuuri sat on the floor next to Victor’s stool.

“Do you know this one?” said Victor, changing the melody.

 

It was a fast succession of notes, it seemed to be a technical piece.

“An etude?” he asked.

“Schubert, impromptu op. 90 no. 2.” Answered Victor “what do you make of it?”

“It’s nice. I mean…” Yuri coughed “It wouldn’t be my favourite.”

“It has a nice ending, though. Hear it” the fast pattern started cycling, the chords getting stronger.

Then the chords took over the piece as they divided the beats precisely. It ended strongly on a last chord.

“Do you like Schubert?” asked Yuuri.

Victor laughed “He’s nice. I mean…” he winked “He wouldn’t be my favourite.”

Yuuri blushed. He glanced at the wall.

 

“So, is there anyone do you like, Yuuri?”

Yuuri jumped: Victor had got tremendously close. Then his face straightened “D-did you tune the piano?”

“Ah, yes. You were sleeping like a baby, I thought better than waking you up, and went to the school to get some tools so that we could have everything ready. Although I think we will be better off there. I thought it would have been more crowded…”

“Hasetsu isn’t a big town. We don’t have many children to teach to anymore. And not many of them are interested in classical music.”

“I see. That’s a shame.” Victor pressed a note on the piano. He progressed into a chord.

“Why do you play, Yuuri?”

 

The question took Yuuri by surprise.

 

“I like it?” he said.

“Just like that?”

 

“I mean, I liked music since I was a kid. I even did ballet for a couple of years. Minako was my teacher at the time. She taught me all the basic musicianship to help me understand what I was dancing to, and after that I guess I got more and more invested with music.”

“I see.” Victor smiled “do you like Minako?”

Yuuri blushed “EH? No, no, she is a family friend, she is like an aunt! She is my mom’s senior!”

Victor laughed “so you don’t have a girlfriend?”

“No, no girlfriend.”

“What about a boyfriend?”

 

Yuuri felt his chest fluttering like a group of very restless birds.

 

“N-no, no boyfriend either.”

“I see.” Chirped Victor.

He seemed somehow satisfied with the answer.

He turned to the piano and started playing something else.

 

It seemed…

 

“De Falla. Danza Ritual del Fuego. I was preparing it for a concert, but it was cancelled because of lack of funding. It happens.”

 

Quick arpeggios defining a quick tempo, chords that seemed to bounce off the rest of the melody, and a main theme full of… seduction?

 

It seemed like seduction to Yuuri. Like a person on a stage, dancing to seduce their audience.

 

Or it seemed more defined. Like they were seducing a specific person? It sounded like a game.

 

“I was thinking of doing that for our first duet, what do you think?” asked Victor, following the quick succession of the finale.

“I… what?!”

He turned around “Well, I thought we would play together a bit so I could assess you as a pupil before starting to tutor you for a competition. After all, you will need someone to accompany you, won’t you?”

Yuuri’s head filled with thoughts, none which made way outside his throat.

 

This was happening.

 

He thought he had just dreamed that. Victor Nikiforov naked in the hotspring in his house, telling him he would have been his music tutor, sounded like a dream alright.

 

And maybe Victor just wanted a distraction from his work, he was known for being always unpredictable whatever he decided.

 

But Victor Nikiforov actually making plans with him? To bring him to a competition as his pianist and his tutor? That meant putting his reputation at stake.

 

Was he really going along with that idea?

 

Of course, none of those words created a more definite sound than what could be defined as a pigeon choking on a piece of bread.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We are slowly starting to detach from the show's external structure.   
> Victor knows how to tune a piano because in my version his father was a piano tuner. I was meant to specify it somewhere at some point but it didn't make it to the final draft. 
> 
> The reason why Victor switches to Grieg is obviously because he realised Yuuri was standing outside, and decide to tease him about waking up late.
> 
> I have numerous pieces that could correspond to Eros in mind. I cannot use Eros because... spoilers... you'll see...
> 
> Victor plays Schubert because Yuuri seems so awkward about saying what he likes, and so he plays an etude to give him something more technical and neutral he can give a definite opinion on. At least for myself, etudes are either a big yeah or a big meh. 
> 
> So this is it for this week! I shall update more next Thursday! =D   
> I hope you enjoyed the story so far!


	7. Etude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor and Yuuri go to rehearse the Ritual Dance of Fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Piano version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u8nfVLpJ1w0  
> Violin & Piano version: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h39rq03EYI8

They went together to the library in the Concert Hall/Music School of Hasetsu.

Yuuko looked at Victor with her mouth open; then she looked at Yuuri, and then at Victor again; and then at Yuuri, to whom she made a face as to say “what the flip flap flop kind of sorcery did you just perform?”

 

To which Yuuri just shrugged.

 

Victor was kneeling down one of the shelves, a green thin book open in front of him. He was humming something cheerful Yuuri could not identify.

“Is there any concert scheduled this week?” he asked.

Yuuko looked at him and smiled awkwardly. Her cheeks flushed “to be fair, we are more of a school than a concert hall. It used to be quite a crowded hall once, but no one comes here to play anymore. Me and my husband are having a small concert at the end of the month, and we have the children’s recitals for the parents, but nothing else. Sometimes Minako joins in to play the piano.”

Victor bit his lip. “That’s too bad. We’ll have to organise something then!” he said, smiling.

He stood up with the music book “Can I borrow this for this week?” he asked.

“Oh, sure!”

“Thank you! Do I owe you anything?”

She blushed “no, no! Don’t worry! It’s a library, after all! Ahahah…”

“Awesome! Then I shall give it back when I finished with this small piggy!” he laughed.

She laughed.

Yuuri laughed very awkwardly.

 

They went to lunch together.

Victor had insisted on touring around Hasetsu, and Yuuri had complied, unable to restrain the enthusiasm of his new tutor.

 

It was only a day since he met Victor Nikiforov, and he had already learned a lot of things.

For instance, that he got overexcited about almost anything.

 

Or that he absolutely loved taking selfies.

“Shall we take a picture together?” he asked while they were sitting on a bench eating.

Yuuri did not have time to answer - flashbacks of Vipolže flashing in front of his eyes, 'cause Victor’s face was already against his own, and the phone in front of them both.

Victor smiled as he resumed his previous distance, and hummed happily.

It seemed that resistance to any of his ideas was completely futile.

Yuuri felt like he was being dragged away by a very strong tornado.

 

Not that he had anything to complain.

 

He was with Victor Nikiforov, after all. That was a dream made reality.

 

And he was way nicer and more handsome in real life than he thought he would be.

 

Victor also liked asking questions, and seemed to have little concept of personal space.

“So, you never answered.” said Yuuri, after Victor took a selfie in front of the Ninja house.

He turned to him, smiling “Mh?”

“Who’s your favourite composer?”

Victor answered with a heart-shaped smile “I like Tchaikovsky a lot!” he went back to sit with Yuuri.

“Why?”

Victor looked at the the leaves fluttering at the soft wind "I don't know. Whenever I listen to him I can't help but picturing stories - I like to imagine stories when I listen to music. When I was little I wanted to be a composer like him.”

“Why didn’t you do that?”

“Oh…" he snorted "it wasn't meant to be. I was spotted as a talent, and then I had to practice for so many hours and had to go to so many places for concerts and recitals that I never really got the time to learn how to compose. Properly, I mean.”

“Oh” Yuuri looked down: he never thought about it, but the life of a child prodigy like Victor must have been very constraining.

“But I still want to explore music!” Victor added “I have been studying conducting in secret for the past couple of years. Yakov is the only one who knows about it, and he gave me hell for it. He says that I play two instruments already, which is more than most professional musicians do, and that I should just put my arse down and practice more and be content with what I have, but…”

He closed his eyes and moved his hand very slowly “I often wonder what it is like to have a whole, breathing instrument to serve. How it feels to be at the centre of that cyclone of music and emotions, how you get more than a hundred people to shape a story with you.”

He made a heart-shaped smile “I never did that sort of thing before! Could you see me doing that?”

 

Yuuri stayed silent a second, then he caught up “Y-yes! I could! You’d be amazing, Victor!”

Victor faltered for a second, but kept smiling.

 

“I really hope so.” Then he turned to Yuuri “can I tell you a secret?”

“S-sure!”

“I want to found an orchestra. A small one. I want to take a break from playing concerts for a year and just focus on that. And you, of course.” He looked at him “Would you like to help me out?”

Yuuri stared at him.

 

And stared at him.

 

And stared.

 

Victor kept his smile, then he sighed dramatically “I see. Oh, well!”

“Ah? Ah! No, no! I would like it very much!” burst Yuuri.

Victor laughed “Don’t worry, it’s still just in my mind! No pressure!” he gave him a pat on the back and stood up.

“Now, let’s start practicing, shall we?”

  

 

 

“El amor brujo: Ritual dance of fire. Do you know the story, Yuuri?”

“It’s a love story, right?”

Victor smiled, sitting on the piano at the school “exactly. But also a story about magic. It’s about a girl named Candela who is haunted by the ghost of the man she was forced to marry. She is in love with a man named Carmelo, but she is still haunted by the ghost, so the two try to find a way to get rid of it. The song we are going to play is the rite suggested to the couple to get rid of the ghost.”

Yuuri nodded.

“I can give you a few minutes to read the piece if you needed, or I can play it for you if you prefer it that way.”

“Play it, please.” Burst out Yuuri.

Victor smiled “alright. Keep your eyes on the score and get ready.”

 

The piece started in _forte_ , with a trill in C which went to _pianissimo_ , and grew louder as low arpeggios introduced the leading voice, which articulated in a series of trills and the main theme of the piece. It felt like the trembling of a small flame, smoke shyly travelling up and bending quietly to the cold wind.

 

The theme was repeated on a higher register, and then the low trills took over, and brought the listener to the second section of the piece, which alternated dynamics from _pianissimo_ to _forte_ , and was then took over again by the trills, which brought back the main theme with some variations. The fire had caught on the wood logs and was now spreading, getting stronger, brighter.

 

Low trills again: the section changed again into the second one: trill, trill, and down to a whisper we go. The wind is strong, and the flame gets smothered a little. Trill, trill, now softer, and down we go. And then from softly to forte, chords that went up and up, the flame taking over again and eating wood and paper, and then it brought you to a coda, in a high melody that articulated with fast notes, and was then embraced by chords, 1, 2, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 1, 2, 3, and then boom with last chord it went down again, the flame getting smothered by the most powerful gush of wind.

 

To put it more figuratively, the whole piece lived up to its name.

 

Victor turned towards Yuuri “so, you got it?”

Yuuri nodded “Mh. I think I can do it.” He stood up, and brought his violin on his shoulder.

Victor smiled. He turned again “Nod when you’re ready” he said.

 

Yuuri closed his eyes: don’t think about your stomach churning because you’re playing with your childhood idol, he thought. This is just another piece, you can do it.

 

He sighed. He put his chin on the violin, straightened his back.

 

He could do it.

 

Victor was looking at him.

 

He nodded.

Victor started the introduction. He quickly followed with the trilled piece.

Victor was keeping the tempo a bit slower than what he had played before, and Yuuri kept racing a bit.

 _My sound is dirty,_ he thought.

_I should keep up to his tempo._

He looked at Victor: he seemed to be focused on what he was doing. He knew he was listening to him very attentively.

Victor stopped. Yuuri gulped.

 _That’s it_ , he thought, h _e just realised how untalented I am, and he’s going to leave._

 

But Victor just smiled “Let’s start again, shall we?”

Yuuri felt his stomach tightening “I’m sorry! I kept racing! I’m sorry!”

Victor looked at him interrogatively “Uh? No, it wasn't bad as a first read, but I think we can do better, that’s all. That’s the first time you play this, you should take it easy. You don’t need to have it at performance level on the first go.”

Yuuri nodded. Would have Victor thought the same for himself?

 

Victor took the music sheet “You have good fingering, although your sound could be cleaner, but I blame it on the tempo we took. It was a bit too fast even for a performance. However, I still think you lack something. What were you thinking about?”

Yuuri bit his lips “I… I don’t know.” He admitted “I thought I was going fast, and… you know, I think I need to study it a bit more, that’s all.”

“Yes, but what were you trying to say?”

“What?”

Victor shook his head “What were you playing for?”

 

Yuuri stood still.

Suddenly there seemed to be tension in the room.

 

Victor was calm. Suddenly Yuuri seemed to have turned to stone.

He sighed.

 

“I’m sorry” said Yuuri.

“There’s no need to apologise.” Victor put the music sheet back on the piano “I guess it’s my fault. What do you need to get more confident with this piece?”

“What?” Yuuri stared at Victor.

 

Victor stayed silent.

 

“I- I guess… could I listen to it again? Another couple of times?” he asked.

Victor nodded.

 

And he started again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY I AM UPLOADING THIS SO LATE! I had to attend a seminar this evening and did not get home until now!  
> Anyway, seems like things are "heating up", amirite? The "flame" of trust is growing! Yuuri certainly felt a bit "hot" playing in the same room as his idol! I guess it's a pity anxiety "smoked" the moment, right?  
> Okay, I'll see myself out.  
> Just so you are aware: the next chapter contains Russian. I do not speak Russian (I only understand a bunch of words), so most of it is a combination of google translate and other websites. Please be merciful. If you speak Russian please do tell me the best way to say what I was trying to say.  
> All the best!


	8. Capriccio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time for more characters to come in!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise in advance for butchering the Russian Language. Please, please, please, if you do speak Russian tell me a better way to say those things.  
> This is what Victor is singing: https://www.youtube.com/?v=W3_AU6BCtuY

They practiced for six hours before calling it a day and going for dinner.

 

Yuuri’s dad had made two hot bowls of Katsudon, which were promptly put on the table as soon as the two arrived.

 

Yuuri looked at Victor and blushed: he had told him he used to eat Katsudon only when he won a competition, and now he had been eating it twice already, both of them knowing he hadn’t won anything.

Victor had teased him the first time, but now he put it lightly “come on, Yuuri: after all, you mightn’t have won any competition, but you won a new pianist, haven’t you?” he winked.

 

Yuuri looked at the bowl.

 

So steamy.

 

So delicious.

 

It was calling him.

 

“Yuuri?”

 

The steam was so inviting…

 

 “Look at me, Yuuri…”

 

Yuuri breathed in the delicious smell of katsudon.

 

“Don’t I look good?”

He startled: Victor was making a weird voice and managed to get extremely close to his ear.

Victor burst out laughing “Sorry, you were looking so intense staring at that bowl, I couldn’t resist.” He joked.

 

Yuuri’s ears got red. He started eating to shift his focus on anything but Victor.

Victor smiled cheerily, and started eating calmly; Yuuri was incredible. Everything he did looked so spontaneous and beautiful.

Victor thought he was gorgeous, even when he was wolfing down a bowl of food. He looked so happy while eating that meal.

He smiled: h _e puts love in everything he does_ , he thought; _that’s why he looks so beautiful all the time._

 

He stood up “Excuse me for a second,” he said; “I need to make a call.”

Yuuri stopped eating and nodded.

 

Victor went down the corridor and took his phone. He looked through his contacts and pressed call.

 

He waited.

 

“Привет!” he chirped “Это Я!”

Someone shouted angrily on the other side.

 

“uh, so touchy!” he joked.

More angry shouting.

 

“Прости!” he trilled “Listen, I called you to ask for a favour…”

The angry shouting got louder.

 

“Ах, ну! Что ты можешь сделать с это?” he shrugged “It’s just a tiny favour, I swear!”

He listened.

 

“Да, хорошо.”

He nodded.

 

“Да ладно! Пожалуйста?”he begged.

The voice seemed to calm down.

 

“Спушай это действительно небольцшая услуга, мне нужно утобы ты...”

He lowered down his voice and kept talking.

Then, the voice on the other side interrupted with a big shout.

“Пожалуйста!” begged Victor.

The voice grumbled something.

“Amazing! Спасибо большое, Юрий!” he cheered.

“Да, Я знаю! Якову, что Я сказал прибет!”

The other person hung up.

Victor hummed cheerfully, and put his phone into his pocket, waltzing back to the dining room.

 

9.

A knock.

 

“Yuuri!”

 

More knocking.

 

“Come on, sleeping Beauty! It’s time to practise!” 

 

Yuuri sighed, his hand looking for his glasses.

 

Victor knocked again “Are you awake, Yuuri?”

“はい! Y-Yes! I mean Yes!”

 

Silence.

 

“Then I shall we go for breakfast?” chirped Victor.

 

Yuuri jumped out of bed and half-opened the door as fast as he could “could you give me a sec? I’m still in my pyjamas!” he said.

Victor waved his hand “Oh, don’t you worry! You can come as you are!”

“I really can’t. Please?”

“Alright. Can I come in?”

“YessssNO! No! Geez! Sorry, I’ll see you downstairs!”

And he shut the door.

 

Victor sighed.

Makka whined behind him.

“We’ll see him in five minutes, Makka. Let’s see what Mr Katsuki has in store for us today!”

 

 

Mrs Katsuki was helping her husband when she caught Victor Nikiforov walking downstairs singing.

“[Ты пришел ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3_AU6BCtuY)  
[ Ко мне много снов тому назад](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3_AU6BCtuY)  
[ Ты пришел ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3_AU6BCtuY)  
[ Во сне, но знаком был мне ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3_AU6BCtuY)  
[ Твой ласкобый бзгляд](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W3_AU6BCtuY)”

“Ah, that’s lovely, Vicchan!” said Mrs Katsuki “I heard it before, what is it?”

Victor smiled a heart shaped smile “That, Mrs Katsuki, is Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty! You probably heard the Disney song…” he grinned “which is what I was singing.”

“Oh, that is lovely, you have a lovely voice, dear.” She said.

“Thank you.”

“Is Yuuri coming downstairs?”

“He said he’ll be down in a few minutes.”

“That’s good. My husband needs some help in the kitchen this morning. We have loads of new guests!”

“Can I help with anything?”

She laughed “I’m not making you work, Vicchan! You are already doing too much to help our Yuuri! Oh, here he is!”

Yuuri walked the door that right moment.

“Morning” he groaned.

“That’s our sleeping beauty!” cheered Victor “You took your time!”

“Sorry.” Smiled Yuuri. He sat down while Mrs Katsuki went to the kitchen.

“Were you singing earlier?”

Victor laid his cheek on his hand “oh, just a thing. We are going to complete the piece today. You were good at the end of yesterday technically speaking, but your interpretation is still way off – oh, thank you, Mrs Katsuki.”

“Thanks, mom.” Said Yuuri, taking a bowl.

He started eating “I can’t feel it” he said.

“That’s why we need to work together.” chirped Victor.

Yuuri nodded.

Victor stared at him, playing with his cutlery.

He started singing quietly:

“это был лишь сон  
Я знаю, не сбыться может он  
Всё расно, мой друг,  
Люблю скажут мне  
Совсем как во сне,  
В том самом сне!”

“God, you’re so gross!” scowled an accented voice.

 

Yuuri and Victor turned towards a blond guy sitting at the corner, with another guy. 

“Oh, hello, Yuratchka!” smiled Victor.

“Shut up, old man! Stop singing lovey-dovey songs to that pig!”

Yuuri blushed. Victor kept smiling. The guy next to young Yuri put his hand on Yuri’s arm.

“I am glad you came! That was so quick!” chirped Victor.

“You’re lucky I’m still ages away from my next concert! I only came to make you keep your promise!”

Victor shook his head “Uh?”

Yuri looked at him “your… promise.” he chided, standing up “You told me you would accompany me on the piano as soon as I was old enough to enter a senior competition, you gross old man!”

The guy next to him blocked him from going further. Victor looked at him. He shook his head.

“Sorry, I guess I just forgot!” minimised Victor “But you knew my memory is not very good, right?”

Yuri growled, then sat down “Whatever,” he grunted “I still expect you to keep that promise.”

“Of course.” replied Victor.

“Good.”

“Who’s your friend?” asked Victor.

“That’s Beka. He plays the double bass.”

Beka waved his hand, his expression grave.

Yuuri looked at him: he was at the competition, too.

“I thought maybe you would do with more than just two violins and a clarinet.” explained Yuri.

Yuuri turned towards Victor “What’s this all about?”

Victor blinked.

“What? You didn’t tell him?” chided Yuri. He sighed “This old geezer said he wants to have a concert here in Hasetsu to see if he can manage to form an orchestra. I only came so that he wouldn’t have any more excuses not to avoid his duties. Besides…” he shot a deathly glance to Victor “Yakov told me to drag your arse back to Russia if you don’t want him to quit being your tutor.”

Victor shrugged “let him be, I told you, there’s nothing to do about it, really. I’m staying here.”

“Doing what?”

“I am coaching Yuuri.”

Yuri’s eyes widened.

He stood up.

“That pig! You’re coaching that pig?!” he barked.

Victor’s smile faltered. Yuuri could see his cheeks tremble to keep it in place.

“Yes.” He replied.

“Why?”

Yuuri held his breath.

“Because that’s what I want to do.”

Yuri sat down. He looked at the couple on the other table.

 

Meanwhile, Yuuri had tried to make himself as small as possible.

 

Victor stood up “If that’s cleared, we’d better go. We have some practice to do.” he smiled at Yuuri “Right?”

“R-right!” he said. He stood up, and hit the table, making his bowl circle and fall. Victor caught it.

He breathed out “That was close.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Привет!” “Это Я!” - Hello, It's me!  
> "Прости" - Sorry  
> "Ах, ну! Что ты можешь сделать с это?" - Ah, well! What can you do about it?  
> "Да, хорошо." - Yes, alright.  
> "Да ладно! Пожалуйста?" - Come on! Please?  
> "Спушай это действительно небольцшая услуга, мне нужно утобы ты" - Come on, it's really a small favour, I need you to...  
> “Пожалуйста!" - Please!  
> "Спасибо большое, Юрий!” - Thank you so much, Yuri!  
> "Да, Я знаю! Якову, что Я сказал прибет!” - Yes, I know! Say hi to Yakov!
> 
> \----
> 
> Two small chapters merged into one! Yay! So Yuri and Otabek joined the scene!   
> I gave Otabek the double bass because it's a very cool instrument, and he would totally go play jazz jams with it - which means he can study it through another genre for the same reason why he found ballet not to suit him in the original series.  
> Yuri plays the violin, of course. What else could that boy play, honestly.  
> And the clarinet player is... well... that would be telling, but if you follow me on tumblr you probably already know!
> 
> I made Victor alternate English to Russian at first because his brain was still switching to another language. I remember the first year I moved abroad it would take a while to quickly swap language. Honestly, it's like swapping key - to keep it in musical terms.
> 
> It's all very innocent this chapter.


	9. Modulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Light angst incoming, followed by fluff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Paganini, Cantabile: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xsFJS4I_05E  
> Liszt, Liebestraum no. 3: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4XEPdYO5mM

Two days later, Victor was rehearsing with Yuuri in the studio at the Concert Hall.

 

Otabek and Yuri had gone to another room to practise “Until the old geezer tells us what the programme actually is.”

 

Yuuri knew The Ritual Dance of Fire by heart, but even if he studied the dynamics and made sure his sound was clean, he still wasn’t convincing Victor.

 

Victor finished the last chords.

Yuuri crashed on the chair.

Victor moved his bangs away from his eyes “call it a break?” he panted.

Yuuri nodded.

 

Victor stood up “Alright. I’m gonna get us coffee, then.”

 

“Victor?”

 

Victor stopped in front of the door “Yes?”

 

“Can we talk once you come back?”

“We can talk now.” Offered Victor.

“No, I need coffee.”

Victor smiled “at your service!”

He closed the door behind him.

 

Yuuri breathed out.

 

That was it.

 

He was going to ask him what he had been wondered all that time.

 

He gulped, loosening his bow and putting it carefully in the violin case with the violin. He did not want to hit something by accident and have to replace everything again.

 

He crashed on the chair, and stayed there looking at the void, his fingers playing with his hands, his thumbs rubbing one another.

 

The room was cosy; it had a large window were the sun shone through and hit the wooden floor. The piano was immediately next to the window, and behind the piano there were a few shelves with some records.

 

He breathed slowly. He felt like a figure skater cheating on his diet with his favourite non-dietetic meal.

Or like a figure skater just have been discovered while eating said meal by his coach.

He sighed: then again, what did he knew about figure skating? It’s not as if they had an ice castle there in Hasetsu.

 

Victor knocked on the door. Yuuri went to open, and immediately found himself grabbing a paper cup full of coffee.

“Fresh from the coffe machine!” chirped Victor.

“Charming. Just what I need.” Grunted Yuuri “Thanks.” He added quickly.

Victor smiled “No worries!”

He took a chair next to Yuuri “Now: what did you want to tell me?”

 

Yuuri looked at his coffee: it was warm, it tickled his skin.

 

He bit his lip “I just wanted to ask…” he began.

 

Silence.

 

Victor nodded “Go on?”

 

Yuuri sighed “Why me?” he mumbled.

Victor drew closer “Sorry I didn’t catch that, what?”

“Sorry. I said…” he breathed in “well…”

 

Victor looked at him intently.

 

“I asked why you would choose to accompany me of all people.”

Victor straightened up on his chair “That’s a tricky question to answer. I guess because I like you?”

“How? You didn’t know me.” objected Yuuri

 

Victor seemed to start saying something, then shook his head.

“I like how you play.” he replied “And I wanted to play with you, that’s all.”

“What about your concerts? I know you have one in a week! What are you going to do about that?”

“I am taking a break from all of that.” Explained Victor “I need one. And I told you, I want to start an orchestra. I want to learn more about working with musicians, directing them.”

“You could have done that in St. Petersburg.” Objected Yuuri “Why here? Why me?”

 

Victor stared at Yuuri. Yuuri stared back.

 

Then Victor shook his head “You…” he started “you have so much potential, Yuuri. I know you didn’t do well last time in Hungary and I was wondering whether I could help.”

 

He paused.

 

Yuuri was looking at the ground.

 

“I really, really like hearing you play, Yuuri.” He continued “I want to hear you play for as long as you will want me.”

 

Yuuri looked at him with teary eyes.

A tear fell down his cheek.

Victor raised his eyebrows. Yuuri hurried to his face with his hand “I’m so-sorry” he gurgled.

Victor opened his arms to hug him, then he moved back “There’s no need to apologise, Yuuri. I know you don’t see it. I can hear it when you play.”

“No, I’m sorry I’m crying, I…” he stood up “I’ll need a second.”

Victor took his arm “Yuuri,” he began “I meant it earlier, what I said.”

Yuuri nodded and freed his arm.

He left the room.

 

Victor sighed and crashed on the chair.

Maybe it was best to call practice off for the rest of the afternoon and let him calm down. He didn’t think he would get upset so easily. He knew he was insecure, but from what he remembered at the banquet this was a surprise.

He passed a hand over his face. He needed to put more work if he wanted Yuuri to gain some confidence.

But now he was more than determine to help him out.

 

His trail of thoughts was interrupted by his phone buzzing.

He picked up “Hello, Chris! How are you?”

He listened and nodded.

“That’s great. I’ll come pick you up in twenty minutes then… no, just the time to fetch my violinist. Yes…”

He blushed.

“No, he did _not_ _do that_ , Chris.”

“No, it’s… complicated.”

“Alright, I shall see you later, then!”

“Bye!”

He put his phone back in his pocket.

He stood up and went in the corridor.

 

He bumped into Yuuko.

“Do you know where Yuuri is?” he asked.

Yuuko looked confused, then she caught up “Gosh, is he okay?” she asked.

“Yes, just a minor episode.” explained Victor “we were talking and he got a bit overwhelmed.”

She nodded “he generally goes to the bathroom upstairs when he gets like that.”

Victor nodded “Thank you.” He said, starting walking.

“Oh, and another thing!” cried Yuuko.

Victor stopped.

“He might need some physical reassurance. Just don’t overwhelm him. He’ll be fine.” She advised.

“Got it. Hug, no pressure. Thanks!” and he ran towards the bathrooms.

 

The bathroom upstairs had a big window with a view on a few trees, and the ocean in the distance. If you closed your eyes and listened, you could hear the waves crashing on the shore like a far, regular echo.

 

Victor stepped in and looked around. One of the doors was closed.

 

He knocked on the door “Yuuri?” he enquired.

There was a gurgle, stopped suddenly.

“Yuuri, can I come in?” he asked.

 

Silence.

 

Then Yuuri opened the door.

“Thank you.” Said Victor.

 

Yuuri was sitting on the floor. He was crying silently and hiccupping every few seconds.

Victor squatted next to him “How can I help you?” he asked.

 

Yuuri didn’t answer.

 

“I’m… not very good at this” began Victor “but I’m gonna try, is that okay?”

Yuuri nodded.

“Can I hug you?” asked Victor.

Yuuri hesitated. Then he nodded.

Victor hugged him.

“I meant it, earlier. You’re really enchanting when you play.”

Yuuri hugged him back.

“Also, that I really want to do this. I know you are frustrated because of the piece. We can just practice it a bit less and focus on something else if you want. Would you prefer that?”

Yuuri nodded “I am really starting to hate De Falla.” He gurgled.

“What would you like to play?” asked Victor.

Yuuri chuckled “I really like Debussy.”

Victor raised his eyebrows “Debussy, then.” Agreed Victor “Who else do you like?”

Yuuri sniffed “Schubert. Ravel. Also, Bruch.”

“Anyone else?”

“Vivaldi? And Mendelssohn. Also, Prokofiev.”

“Wow! Is there anyone you don’t like?” teased Victor.

“I don’t know.” he snorted “I guess De Falla.”

Victor chuckled.

“Also, I can’t stand Wagner.” He continued.

“No Wagner, then.”

“No, better not.”

“Mahler?”

Yuuri shrugged “He's okay” He looked at Victor “I like Chopin.” He said “but there aren’t many pieces for the violin that you can play.”

Victor nodded “I can play you some Chopin, if you want.” He offered.

“I would like that.”

“Would you?” smiled Victor.

Yuuri nodded, his were still teary, but his breath had calmed down.

Victor caressed his back. He drew him closer to his chest, his head on his shoulder.

 

“I liked it when you played Liszt.” he confessed.

Yuuri stayed silent. Victor’s sweater was warm, and it had his nice perfume. It smelled fresh, like lemon and mint and white musk.

 

“Hey, let’s see if you know this one.” Began Victor.

He started to hum a tune, and then he sang it, mostly with random syllables.

Yuuri closed his eyes. He knew the piece, but did not want to say it least Victor would stop singing.

He had a nice voice. It was deeper when he sang, and it vibrated through his chest.

It was like the first time he played his violin, and he felt the sound propagating through his shoulders and chest and fill his heart. He barely felt it now, but he had always loved the feeling.

Victor continued to sing quietly, trying to get as high as he could, nearly straining his voice doing so. He started rocking Yuuri a bit and kept caressing his back.

“So, what was it?”

Yuuri smiled “Paganini. Cantabile. I played it for my audition at the conservatoire.”

Victor beamed “That’s so nice! It’s one of my favourite pieces! What about this?”

He started humming again. Yuuri rested his head on Victor’s shoulder and closed his eyes.

They shifted side to side, and Victor took Yuuri’s hand. He started rubbing it with his thumb.

“That’s Liszt.” said Yuuri “Liebestraum, right?”

Victor nodded, still humming.

Yuuri closed his eyes, and snuggled closer “I would like to play that.” He said.

Victor’s fingers intertwined with his.

 

They stayed like that until Yuuri had fully calmed down and they were ready to exit. Victor gave him a bottle of water and ordered him to drink while he explained what they were to do next.

“You mean Christophe Giacometti?” asked Yuuri.

“He’s coming with some friends from the Festival here to join us.” Beamed Victor “I thought it would be nice to have a retreat all together! You know, we could play, form a small ensemble, and have a concert!” he explained “When Yuuko told me there were no concerts here I thought it a shame, so I thought why not? Most of them will be resting after the Festival, after all.”

Yuuri nodded “Alright. Who’s coming?”

“I think the guy who played the flute, Phichit; he said he was coming. Then Emil, the cor anglais. And Sara Crispino, a viola. If she’s coming then her brother Michele is coming too. He’s a singer. Then Guang Hong Ji, who won the cello section at the competition, and Seung-gil Lee, who played the French horn. Oh, dear, I think JJ is coming. He’s the trumpet guy. The really loud one. I think the bassoonist, De La Iglesia, is coming. Then, let’s see…”

Yuuri had paled. Where were they all planning on staying?”

“Georgi and Mila said they were coming. They are both singers. Georgi also plays the tuba, although he never won any competition. Mila is quite good with the guitar. She picked it up when she was a kid as a hobby and she managed to keep it. I think she still has some gig with that. Ah, and that little Japanese guy with the red bangs, the timpanist. And I think that’s all.”

Yuuri breathed in.

“They have already booked at the resort. I had asked your mother if you had places and she said it was fine as it is low season.”

Yuuri sighed: he was happy they were going to have a retreat, but at the same time he didn’t exactly have happy memories from the competition in Hungary, and most of those people might recognise him as the guy who didn’t make it after the last day and disappeared without greeting anybody.

Except for Phichit, of course.

“I guess they might have already met Yuri and Otabek at this point.” Continued Victor “so we can meet them at the resort. And maybe we can decide what to play together?” he beamed “this is amazing!” he exclaimed “orchestra! Orchestra!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo! You have all the names now! Things are going to get crowded in the next chapters!  
> I did not want to write Yuuri's panic attack from Yuuri's point of view because the only experience I have is my own and it tends to be quite extreme, and I did not want to get it that angsty (plus it's still a delicate topic for me to write, so I would rather use Victor's point of view instead).  
> But can you fell the love tonight?   
> The correct answer is meh because those two still need to walk a bit together before seeing it properly. But I wanted to give Victor a scene where he dealt with Yuuri's anxiety at its worst because, well, partly it is what he does in the series, and partly because it is the kind of interaction that would break or make a relationship for me. It's important when you have anxiety to have someone who knows how to calm you down instead of adding more tension to it.


	10. Toneless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor Nikiforov's dream to form an orchestra might finally come true... only, he didn't really think this through.

It was evening.

 

Victor and Yuuri were sitting side by side on a long table provided by Mrs Katsuki. Chris, who sat in front of Victor, was looking at him with his lips curled.

 

Yuuri looked at the table, still blushing for the way Chris had greeted him.

 

By first name, while basically groping him.

 

Victor had turned him away with a bit too much vehemence to ask him about the journey, and it didn’t happen again.

 

But the embarrassment was strong.

 

 

It turned out Seung Gil would have come in a few days because of a concert, and Michele had no intention whatsoever of playing with Nikorov, and was just there to “safeguard” his sister (who was looking at him quite irritatingly). It was no matter, because Emil would have soon got him involved, and Michele wouldn’t have missed a chance to show off anyway. He liked to sing in front of people.

 

“JJ is coming tomorrow, just so you’re warned” said Chris, drinking a glass of orange juice.

 

There had seemed to be a general consensus not to drink more than two pints during the meeting. Yuuri didn’t grasp why, but when he asked everyone looked at him awkwardly and just smiled.

 

“I can handle him. Tell me who we have so far.”

“Two violins, a viola, a cello, a double bass for the string section. A flute, clarinet, a cor anglais, a french horn, a trumpet, a tuba for the winds. A timpanist for the percussion section. And then there’s you. Are you thinking of a piano concerto? Bach maybe?”

“That’s bad. We need more players.”

“It’s not bad. I mean, it’s, what, fourteen of us? That’s a lot. Maybe not for an orchestra, but we can play quite a few things. You don’t even have conducting experience. Are you sure you want to start off with a concerto for orchestra?”

Victor sighed “What’s your idea?”

Chris cleared his throat “Well, I was thinking of a series of recitals. It would get the guys to show off. And then we do the Bolero.”

“I’m sick of the Bolero.”

“I’m gonna pretend you have never said that.”

Victor bumped his head on the table.

 

Chris shrugged “Well, we can’t play Wagner.”

“We are _never_ playing Wagner. I forbid it. Fuck Wagner.”

Chris raised his eyebrows “Alright. No Wagner.”

Mila pushed Chris aside “Hey, why don’t we play Mozart? I want to sing 'Voi che Sapete'!”

Georgi pushed Mila aside “No, we should play something from _Faust_!”

Phichit joined in from Yuuri’s side “Why don’t we play Corelli’s flute, strings, and continuo?”

Victor nodded “mh…”

Yuri scowled “We should be playing Bruch! The Scottish Fantasy! I can handle it!”

Beka nodded.

“We don’t have enough strings, Yuri.” Objected Victor.

“Well, find some!” snapped Yuri.

Victor sighed “What do the others say?”

Sara smiled “I want to play Vivaldi! I like him a lot!”

Michele scowled “as long as my sister is the solo, I’m fine with everything.”

“You don’t get to decide!” barked Yuri.

“Who says?”

“If you don’t play you don’t decide!” continued Phichit.

Victor breathed heavily “I need some air.” He told Yuuri “are you coming?”

“Ah! Sure!”

 

 

“Jeez, that group.” whined Victor “I am really not sure how I’m going to handle them.”

“It’s only the first evening.” Said Yuuri “I am sure you will be fine. You can do anything you set your mind on.”

Victor looked at him, his cheeks flushed.

He sighed.

“It’s not only that. Chris is right, I’ve got no experience, I’m not sure it’s a wise idea to perform a concert on the first go. We don’t have confidence with each other, and we only have a couple of weeks before they start going back to their own countries and quit the project. I barely managed to convince them saying I would be paying them the expenses to stay here. We need something to keep them here if we want this to work. But we are too few.”

 

Yuuri frowned “I think recitals are too individualistic. We would have something, but we wouldn’t be any closer to solve the problem group-wise.” He gasped “Maybe we should think smaller. Start looking at octets, decets, and so on. We can work with surplus of parts. It’s better than to work with a lack of, or just one person per section.”

Victor blinked very quickly “That would work.” He said.

Yuuri looked at him. He smiled “Also, that might bring us a few more players. I can ask Yuuko if she knows anyone. And Minako. She should have some former pupil who might like to play with the orchestra.”

Victor nodded.

“Yes… YES! That’s amazing, Yuuri!”

He hugged him.

And kissed his cheek.

“I’m gonna tell Chris!” he cheered.

 

He ran inside.

 

Yuuri stood still, blinking.

He touched his cheek.

 

 

 

“Musicians? Sure, I know a lot!” cheered Yuuko.

“Just tell me who you need, I can send an email around and see who comes.”

Yuuri scratched his cheek “literally anyone who would want to join.”

Yuuko banged her hands on the desk “You are playing in an orchestra with Victor Nikiforov. They want to join. Period.”

Yuuri chuckled “do _you_ want to join?”

She sighed “I would like to help you guys, but I haven’t practised enough to be that confident. Dealing with the triplets, as much fun as they are, takes a toll on you. But I can ask Takeshi.”

Yuuri smiled “Thank you. We really need more musicians.”

“You are number isn’t bad to start. I mean, there even duos and quartets have a wide repertoire. And many baroque pieces can be played with an orchestra of less than forty people.”

Yuuri sighed “it’s just… Victor is a fan of Tchaikovsky. He loves his music. So I figured if we had enough people we could play some pieces. It would make him very happy.”

She hummed “well, Victor needs to wait a bit, then. You don’t even have enough players to be a classical orchestra, let alone resembling a romantic one.”

“I know.”

She looked at him. She winked “Come on, mopey face! I’ll see what I can do! I am sure there are many musicians who love the idea of an orchestra with _the_ Nikiforov. More or less.”

Yuuri smiled fainly: it was the more or less that worried him.

 

 

 

 

It took a week of scanning through emails, and people sent videos to audition.

In the end, they ended up being sixty-four  players, mostly from Japan, although there were a bunch who came from overseas, and a dozen exchange students from all over the world.

 

Victor banged into Yuuri’s room cheering something festive.

 

Yuuri groaned, and went to the door.

“WE HAVE SIXTY FOUR PLAYERS!” he cried cheerfully, wrapping Yuuri into a hug.

Yuuri slipped and fell down bringing Victor down with him.

Victor kept hugging him, not even bothered by the fall.

“Sixty-four! I know what we can play!”

Yuuri made a sound that would be too much to describe as anything but a sound resembling a very confused cat growling really low.

“That’s good!” he managed to scramble.

Victor looked at him with shimmering eyes. He brought him to sit and hugged him again.

“It’s all because of you, Yuuri! You are absolutely amazing!”

Yuuri smiled. He hugged him back “You are the one who is doing all the organisation, Victor.” He reminded him.

Victor smiled wide. He stood up “Come on, I am treating you to a meal today!”

Yuuri chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted Victor to have difficulties in all the organisation because dude has always been a soloist, and always had Yakov to take care of the organisation and the bureaucratic aspect of everything. Also, I wanted him to rely on Yuuri a bit.  
> The first scene was inspired by Nodame Cantabile - the scene in that anime is, of course, much funnier, especially with Mine and Kiyora "getting married" and "getting divorced" at every decision.   
> But it fit the character's desire to be seen and do their best, which is why I took from that. Again, it is liberally inspired.
> 
> What are they going to play? Mh mh?  
> That would be telling.


	11. Accellerando

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rehearsals begin. Someone does not agree with the conductor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beethoven Triple Concerto:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Vtyod61mB6A
> 
> Tchaikovsky Symphony no. 1:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_krJMxZfZcQ&t=177s

Beethoven: Triple concertos for violin, cello, and piano in C major, Op. 56.

“Is this our piece?” asked Yuri, while the others were taking out their instruments to rehearse in the Concert hall.

Victor nodded, waving a baton around “Yes! Isn’t it nice?”

Yuri raised his eyebrows “That depends. Who are the solos?”

Victor smiled “Guang Hong Ji, Minako, and Yuuri!”

“Did someone say my na-“

“That pig?!” barked Yuri “That’s a horrible idea.”

Victor took a breath, stretching a smile “Any other idea?”

Yuuri got closer. Yuri looked at him “I am way better than fat-fingers, here!” he scowled.

Yuuri shrugged “hey, if you want it so bad you can take it.”

Victor shook his head “no, I want you to play the solo, Yuuri.” He said “Although… Yuri wouldn’t be bad either. He has skills.”

“Thank you!” conceded Yuri.

“For me you are both quite scarce right now when it comes to technique, to be honest!” he smiled, “So what about we settle this with a short competition?” he suggested.

 

Other members from the orchestra came closer.

 

He looked at them “The orchestra can choose!” he said.

 

Some nodded; other murmured.

 

“That’s fine for me.” said Yuri “If I win, then I get the solo and the first chair for all the other pieces.”

Victor nodded “That’s alright by me. What about you, Yuuri?”

Yuuri sighed. He thought about it.

Then he stared at Victor “If I win, then… then I will do whatever you want me to play in this orchestra. Be it a solo or a third violin.” He blushed “I just want to keep playing with you.”

Victor smiled.

Yuuri was so precious, he thought.

 

“Alright!” he said “then from this moment on you are both in a competition. I grant you a piece each, no longer than fifteen minutes to  bring in by next week!”

Yuri smirked “I already know what to play!”

Victor chuckled “A piece I shall myself choose.” 

Yuri opened his mouth to protest, then he regained composure “alright. Nothing you can throw at me can be that difficult anyway.” he said.

“Alright!” chirped Victor “And now, we better get all ready to rehearse. Since the two Yuris are busy establishing dominance, for today Yuri shall take the solo, so he keeps quiet, and Yuuri shall take the first chair in the first violins.”

Everyone went sitting. Yuri took his hair away from his face.

Victor went on his music stand, his baton ready “Is everyone set?” he asked.

He smiled.

And then he gave the start.

 

 

 

“I can’t believe we spent four hours on this piece!” groaned Emil.

“Well, we were stuck on the same eight bars for over an hour.” Joined in Sara.

“He can be picky.” Admitted Chris.

“How the heck did he know everytime I kept playing C sharp?!” whined Phichit “I couldn’t even hear myself properly in all the midst!”

“Which is why we spent one hour playing section by section.”

“And then trying to play everything way more _piano_.”

“The polonaise was painful.” Muttered Guang Hong Ji “He’s scary.”

Leo De La Iglesia chuckled; “he kept smiling, but he was rather strict. Although I am not surprised he has high standards like that. After all, he is _the_ Nikiforov.”

“I think Minako is the only one who didn’t receive any reproach from him.” Commented Sara.

“Well,” joined in Minami “She used to be an internationally known musician, after all. They will probably arrange some conductor-soloists rehearsals anyway. I guess they will solve all the problems then.”

“Right.” Echoed Mila “how much time did he say we had?”

“Two weeks?”

Mila laughed a dry, painful laugh “Right. I’m heading back to the room to practice my piece.” She said.

 

Tchaikovsky, Symphony no. 1 “Winter Daydreams”.

“Yuuri, please keep the first chair.”

“No way-“ started Yuri.

Mila’s sigh was heard from way over the brass section “For fucks’ sake Yura just do it!”

Yuri zapped Victor with a death glare, and let himself fall on the chair with the charm of a brick.

He stared at Yuuri with what Yuuri thought was the look of someone who was calculating how much strength to put in to strangle someone else’s neck.

“Alright.” Said Victor, drawing all murmurs down with a movement of his arms “Violins, I want you to start as softly as you can. Play up on your bow. Very softly.”

He gave the start.

 

 

Victor crashed on a bench outside the Concert Hall. Yuuri and him had stayed over after everyone was gone to set everything in order.

 

“Tired?” asked Yuuri.

“Wrecked.” Answered Victor.

 

Yuuri sat down next to him. He wondered if there was something he could do.

 

He blushed. He looked down.

 

“Yuuri?” called Victor.

“Mh?”

“Did you have fun?”

Yuuri smiled “Mh! A lot!” he said.

“That’s good.” Victor closed his eyes and exhaled deeply; a soft blow of warm breath came out from his lips and vanished in the cold air.

“So…” started Yuuri “about the piece…?”

“You are playing Tzigane.” cut Victor “I am still thinking what to give to Yuri, but it will probably be the Adagio from Bruch’s Violin Concerto.”

Yuuri widened his eyes “What?!”

Victor chuckled “you’ll be fine.” he said “after all, it’s not De Falla, right?”

 

Yuuri wanted to reply that no, it was not. It was, in fact, way worse.

 

Victor got close to him, so much that Yuuri felt his ears roasting, and was suddenly sweating and in need to take a layer off.

 

Victor put his cheek on Yuuri’s shoulder, and whispered “It will be alright.”

 

And he stayed like that.

 

Yuuri was petrified.

 

After nearly a minute, he was feeling the need to go to the toilet “Victor?” he called.

 

“Mh?” he murmured.

 

“Are you asleep?”

“Noooo…” yawned Victor. “But I am hungry.”

Victor’s arms slowly enveloped Yuuri into a hug. Yuuri felt he was going to have a heart-attack.

 

“Bring me to a nice play to eat, Yuuri…” he begged.

Yuuri frowned at the sudden request, half smiling. He sighed, smiling, and chuckled.

 

“Alright.” He said “But you are treating!”

 

 

 

“So how come you picked the violin?” asked Victor.

 

Yuuri was looking at his bowl of Katsudon “It happened…” he said, vaguely.

 

Victor smiled “But you played the piano before that, didn’t you?”

Yuuri nodded “yes, Minako –senpai used to teach me.”

Victor poured him some water “Do you still play?” he asked.

Yuuri blushed “Sometimes. I can’t give it too much time because the violin is my main instrument and I need to focus on that, but it is useful. Especially when… well.”

Victor smiled “Mh?”

Yuuri’s ears got red “when you – aehm – when you try to compose, and all.”

Victor’s jaw dropped “A composer!”

“I don’t – well, yes, I do, but it’s nothing special!”

“Can I hear something?”

“What? No! No! It’s really just a bunch of exercises! Nothing worth hearing!”

Victor looked at him with a frown “Everything is worth hearing.” He answered.  

He put his hand on Yuuri’s arm “I would really like to hear what you compose to understand you better. As your tutor. And your conductor.” He said.

Yuuri sighed. “Alright.” he answered.

“Tonight?” chirped Victor.

Yuuri blushed, and looked down at his katsudon.

 

Victor and Makkachin followed Yuuri into Victor’s room.

Yuuri went towards the piano and opened it.

“There was one I quite liked.” He said. “It’s a piano piece, so… you know…” he smiled, awkwardly “I’ll try my best.”

Victor nodded, smiling.

He sat down next to the piano, scratching Makkachin’s ears as the dog was sitting on his lap.

 

Yuuri’s cheeks were red. Victor’s heart was beating fast.

 

Yuuri gave him a few glances. Victor kept smiling at him.

 

At last, Yuuri sighed, and put his hands on the piano. He closed his eyes just for a moment, and breathed slowly.

 

Then he [began](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rwvF1Lgh61w).

 

A series of arpeggios articulated on a single low note that beat the tempo, until they reached a peak, and went down again.

Victor felt his chest bursting: it was like a flowing dance of notes and feelings.

 

“There should be some violins here.” Commented Yuuri, while he played.

 

Victor imagine he could see someone dancing free; it reminded him of a flock of sparrows flying over the sky in Europe, over snowy peaks of mountains; it reminded him of fresh air, and it seemed to him there was a continuous tension in the piece, a struggle to get free of everything, to just be oneself.

 

Yuuri was charming. He was way better at the piano than he let on. He seemed to have a really good memory, and went through the piece without stopping once. He did slip once or twice but he didn’t stop playing.

 

Amazing.

 

Victor brought a hand to his chest: his heart was beating really fast.

 

Yuuri concluded with a low note. He blushed and fidgeted around.

 

“So,” he chuckled nervously “as I said, it was just an exercise, but, you know, I…”

 

Victor didn’t let him finish that sentence: he jumped onto his feet, Makkachin rolling aside, and hugged Yuuri so tight Yuuri felt it hard to breathe.

 

He stayed like that for what seemed an infinity.

 

Yuuri thought his heart was going to crash.

 

“Victor?”

 

Victor shook his head.

 

“Victor, are you crying?”

 

Victor squeezed him in his hug.

 

Yuuri hugged him back “I’m sorry, is it something I did, is…”

 

“That,” began Victor “was so amazing, Yuuri.” He said “so utterly amazing.”

 

Yuuri blushed, then hugged him tight “I’m glad you liked it.” He said.

 

Victor didn’t move.

 

Makkachin sniffed the pair of them and tried to partake of the hug. Yuuri caressed his head.

“I… Yuuri, do you like me?” asked Victor all of the sudden.

Yuuri stopped. He just stopped.

“Sorry, I just blurted it out” laughed Victor. He seemed nervous.

 

Yuuri took Victor’s shoulders and looked at him.

 

“Do you want to know why I started playing the violin?” he asked.

Victor shrugged.

Yuuri smiled. “Wait here.”

He ran outside the room. He came back a few minutes later with his laptop.

He put it in front of Victor and Makkachin, who had moved on the mattress, and selected a file from Youtube.

It was a recording of an Orchestra in Moscow.

 

Tchiakovsky.

Victor recognised the piece immediately. Violin Concerto, op. 35.

It started with a big wave of energy from the orchestra, and then, a celestial solo.

The camera focused on the solo violin.

It was an adolescent with a long silver ponytail.

“That’s me.” said Victor.

Yuuri looked at him “I was so mad at you for not performing in public with the violin anymore.” He admitted “because I always thought you were the best player I have ever heard.”

Victor looked at the video. He stopped it “to be honest, I still like to perform on the violin. But I wanted to improve on the piano because I wanted to become a conductor. But then my fame as a piano player seemed to grow, and I found it hard to schedule anything in.”

He sighed. Yuuri looked at him.

“I still prefer the violin,” admitted Victor “but it sort of became more of a venting and relaxing tool than a career one. At least for the moment.”

Yuuri nodded.

“Victor?”

Victor smiled “Mh?”

“I want to play a duet with you.” He said.

Victor frowned “aren’t we already doing that? I know that the orchestra has took over lately, but it’s still going on, and –”

“No.” Yuuri looked at him in the eyes.

“I want you to play the violin. I want to accompany you on the piano.” He said.

 

Victor looked at him.

 

His eyes were so determined, he had never seen him so decisive before.

 

He smiled, his cheek flushed “I like it.” He said.

 

 

 

“Yuuri, I got a few pieces we could play together!”

Yuuri jumped and screamed.

“Victor!” he cried “Sorry I got scared, I was practicing!”

 Victor’s smile turned into a “oooh, that’s right, the competition’s tomorrow!”

Yuuri sighed.

Victor smiled. He took a chair at the corner of the studio and nonchalantly sat down, the music sheets on his lap “Well,” he said “how’s it going?”

 

Yuuri made a low sad growling sound.

 

Victor chuckled “if it’s anything like the piece you showed me yesterday, I am sure it will be amazing!”

Yuuri nodded. He sighed “So,” he started, putting his violin on a table “what are the pieces?”

“Don’t stop for me, please. I was just popping by.”

“Nevermind that,” said Yuuri, sitting next to Victor “I could do with a break, I’ve been playing since forever. So, what do you have?”

Victor smiled, passing him the music sheets.

Yuuri looked at them: Kreisler’s Liebesfreud und Liebesleid, Beethoven’s Kreutzer Sonata, Tchaikovsky’s Souvenir d’un lieu cher, Beethoven’s Spring Sonata, Debussy Sonata for Violin and Piano, Schubert’s Serenade.

“Okay, which one were you thinking?” asked Yuuri.

“I was hoping you would help me out with that.”

“Well, you like Tchaikovsky…”

“Yes, but you like Debussy.”

Yuuri stayed silent for a moment “They would all be good. I am not sure I would be able to play Debussy properly to be honest.”

“I am sure you could. We don’t have a deadline for this, after all.”

Yuuri bit his lips.

“Beethoven.” He said. “Kreutzer sonata?”

Victor nodded “yes, I like it too.” he smiled widely “It’s just the first one we are doing anyway. We could do Debussy next.”

Yuuri laughed “I would be more comfortable on the violin for that.”

Victor looked at him intensely “I am sure we can arrange that.” He got up smiling widely “Right!” he cried, taking the music sheets off Yuuri “You need to practice! I shall go and ask Yuuko whether I can borrow these for another while!”

Yuuri sighed, smiling.

Living with Victor felt like living with an overexcited Golden Retriever sometimes.

 

 

 

It was a Monday afternoon, just after lunch.

The Orchestra was coming back into the Concert hall after a morning of rehearsals and forty minutes of break outside. Their break was extended to another half an hour, and they sat down content on the audience side of the hall, chatting with each other.

Backstage, Yuuri was compulsively reviewing the same two bars in the hope he would not screw up in front of everyone. Victor had insisted on proceeding formally, and he even asked Yuuko to call the press if it was possible to have it reviewed. He knew he was probably doing it to get more visibility to the orchestra and probably to the concert hall, but still, it caused him a lot of tension. It was scary enough to perform with your idol in front of everyone with one of the winners of a worldwide competition where he had hugely screwed up, he did not need to do it in front of the press, too.

Yuri, on the other side of the room, was sitting with the music sheet in front of his face, bent on himself.

Victor entered the room after finishing to make sure the piano was in good shape and that people had started coming in.

“Right guys, I’d say we are starting in ten…” his face turned to Yuri. He got incredibly serious, and hurried over there “Yura, Всё в порядке?” he asked.

Yuri shook his head.

“что не так?” he asked.

Yuri grunted “колики...”

Victor nodded “I’m gonna check if I have some painkillers.” He said.

Yuri nodded.

Yuuri got closer as Victor went looking through his bag.

“Is he alright?” he asked.

“Mh?” Victor kept looking “Oh, yes; I mean, no: he has cramps. But he’ll be fine. it’s just unfortunate. Ah, there they are!” he said, waving around a pack of ibuprofen.

He turned to Yuri “тебе нужо прокладки?”

“нет!”

He got a bottle of water and gave it to Yuri with some painkillers.

He went back to Yuuri “it should work in twenty minutes or so. I’ll try to get some time during my introduction.” He looked at Yuuri and sighed “Yuuri, I know you are not gonna like what I am about to ask, but would you go first instead? I want to give Yuri the time to get better before he plays.”

Yuuri looked at him, then at the young Russian sulking in pain in the corner. He turned to Victor; he nodded.

Victor beamed up “Thank you so much!” he hugged him. Yuuri automatically hugged him back.

Victor ended the hug sooner than usual “now, I’m going to prepare the audience. I will try to talk as long as I can, but I don’t expect it to last for more than five minutes. So be prepared at any moment.”

Yuuri nodded again. Victor looked at him one last time, and then he was off.

 

Yuuri turned towards the young Russian in the corner.

“The fuck are you looking at?” scowled Yuri.

Yuuri was startled at the sudden aggression, then shook his head “I’m just sorry you are not feeling well.” he said “if you want I can ask Yuuko to bring you a hot water bottle.”

Yuri shook his head “these will be fine. It’s the same meds I use.” He fired an icy glance at Yuuri “don’t think I’m going to make it easy for you to win just because of this! I am gonna win!”

Yuuri nodded, resigned “Maybe.” He said “I won’t make it easy for you, either.”

“Good.” Said Yuri “Don’t you dare letting me win just because I feel like I’m bleeding to death right now.”

Yuuri nodded “Never crossed my mind.”

 

The crowd clapped.

 

“That’s probably the old man trying out some lame joke to get you more time.” Explained Yuri “you should go towards the entrance. You don’t want him get too deep into his bad jokes. It’s a terrible spectacle to watch.”

Yuuri chuckled “I will. Thank you.”

Yuri nodded away “Just go.” He muttered.

 

Yuuri took his violin and went toward the stage entrance.

 

Victor gave a glance at him, and breathed relieved. He probably thought there was some kind of complication backstage, either with Yuuri’s anxiety or Yuri’s period cramps.

 

“Alright, people. So, with no further ado, we are going to start off. The first piece will be performed by Katsuki Yuuri, your first chair! Give him a warm welcome!”

They clapped as Yuuri entered the stage. Victor went towards the piano.

“Ready when you are, Yuuri.” Said Victor quietly. Yuuri nodded.

He put his violin on his shoulder. He [breathed in](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K71LvN-xZlc).

 

Tension was the first thing that came to his mind when he stated. It was like and elastic being pulled and then coming back very quickly, or a flame moving at the wind.

Yuuri’s sound was very gentle, but decisive. It was captivating to watch him play.

Chris looked at him and thought of the pole dancing he surprised everyone with at the banquet.

The solo continued for a while, and then the piano came in with a scale, more in the manner of a harp than of a piano. The violin followed it and trilled on a high note. Yuuri could feel his arm shake slightly and did his best to keep his sound flowing.

The piano started a base for a new theme. Suddenly the piano and the violin were interlacing like fingers of lovers, and followed one another, the sound of  the piano taking the main theme of the song, while the violin proceeded with a _pizzicato_. They changed theme, and then went back to the main theme of that section, the violin playing high, and then going down abruptly, in a storm of sound the piano offered.

The theme changed again, the rhythm becoming more that of a couple dance. The same theme was taken again from the piano.

It change again, moving to a playful tune, that went faster and faster.

Victor smiled: it reminded him when they danced at the banquet, and Yuuri was so drunk he kept making him twirl most unexpectedly, and they both ended up on the floor a bunch of times.

Yuuri’s fingers slipped.

Fuck, he was out of tune.

He recovered the next bar, his heart in his throat.

Victor created a low base for the violin to take the playful theme back in lower octave. The theme became faster, and higher, then softer, and now it went really fast, like people circling around running, and loosing balance.

The theme changed back to the main one, and the people circled faster.

Until they fell.

Silence.

The first to shout was Mila, standing up and clapping. She was soon followed by Chris, and soon after by all of the others.

Yuuri breathed heavily, his eyes teary for the anxiety and the effort. He turned to Victor. Victor winked.

He blushed.

He went downstage and bowed.

Victor put a hand on his shoulder “Thank you.” He said.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, we’ll take a five minutes break so you can exchange your notes, and then we shall be back with the second competitor!”

They went back into the wings.

Yuri was already back on his foot, practicing. His face looked focused, and his jaw was contracted.

“That was amazing, Yuuri.” whispered Victor, patting Yuuri’s shoulder. Yuuri blushed.

He went off to Yuri “How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Are you ready so?” smiled Victor.

Yuri stabbed him with a glance “I can top what the pig did on this and any other day.”

Victor smiled politely.

“Alright, then. I shall go out to sort out a few things. We are starting again in five minutes.” He said.

 

 

Yuuri sat in the wings with his back against the wall. Yuri had just stepped on the stage, his face pale; he seemed to feel a bit better, though, which was good. Victor had asked if he wanted to tell the audience he was feeling unwell, but Yuri told him to fuck off.

[The piano started the music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EHwpRhARAc4) very delicately. The violin joined in with the main tune. It was like a park immediately after a storm in autumn. The low rumbling of the storm kept being heard in the distance, but drops of rain fell peacefully from the leaves of the bushes into the ground. It felt calm, but Yuri’s sound was a bit…

Angry? Yuuri thought he was putting too much pressure on the piece. He had always associated that movement of Bruch’s concert with the sun coming through the clouds after a rough storm, but Yuri was telling a completely different story.

The sound was heavy; it made Yuuri think of someone walking with sorrow in his heart.

The piano replaced the orchestra the best it could. It felt like it was raining again. The violin joined in again, playing a sequence, until it reached a peak with the piano. The violin trilled, and the sound got progressively sweeter and softer, while the piano got louder.

It now sounded like two people walking serenely together in the rain. There was still tension, though, Yuuri noted. He couldn’t help but think that Yuri’s sound was too heavy.

Maybe the pain was really taking a toll from him? It would have been plausible. The boy had been bent in pain just twenty minutes earlier. Now, of course, he looked perfectly fine and one hundred percent focused on his piece, but maybe the medication did not soothe off all of the pain, and he was just struggling to keep it calm.

 

The piece reached a soft ending.

 

A thunderous applause again.

 

Yuri bowed, and then went off the wings.

 

“Good job!” attempted Yuuri, standing up.

Yuri scowled “Fuck off,” he said “we both know the results.” and he went off.

Victor entered the wings, and stared at Yuri as he went away.

“He is too proud.” he muttered, shaking his head.

“I don’t think the medication did much, he still seemed in pain during the piece.” Commented Yuuri.

Victor looked at him “What? No, that’s just how he plays it. I told him to calm it down a notch, but he never listens.” He sighed, shaking his head. Then he wrap an arm around Yuuri and smiled widely “Anyway, let’s go see what the orchestra says!”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: Yuri is not the person in cramp hell today.   
> Victor hugged Yuuri because he is so bloody overwhelmed by how utterly perfect his crush is. It happens to the best of us.
> 
> Всё в порядке - is everything alright?  
> что не так - what's wrong?  
> колики - cramps  
> тебе нужо прокладки - do you need some pads?  
> нет - no.


	12. Serenade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A night out - Victor jazzes it up.  
> Let the jam begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All music will be linked in the piece. Please enjoy =)

The afternoon had progressed normally with Yuri taking place as the solo in the Triple concerto.

 

At the end of the week the orchestra got in together with Yuuko to organise a bonding party to celebrate the first week of rehearsals went well, and the arrival of three new percussionists who wanted to join them after having seen a recording of the competition on Dutube.

 

 

The week had been extenuating, with the orchestra rehearsing six hours every day, and Victor and Yuuri taking at least another two hours together to prepare Yuuri’s pieces for the next competition. They hadn’t even have time to touch their idea of inverting their instruments.

 

They decided to host the party at the Concert Hall, after promising Yuuko they would have cleaned up all the mess afterwards, and would have taken responsibility for any damage.

 

They had let the [piano](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Gg7OUG9V_cw) on the stage, and had taken back the seating banks so that there was more space for people to actually walk and dance. Chris had insisted to bring a disco ball, which had tried to convince Victor to rig with the other lights, and ended up tying on one of the wall lights.

 

Yuuri had just arrived, after staying more at the onsen to get a shower and to cuddle Makkachin – he really didn’t fancy going to an event this crowded, but he presumed it wouldn’t have been fair on Victor since he had organised anything and had thought of little else the full week.

 

 

Victor was playing Nat King Cole on the piano, Chris was sitting and chatting with him with a paper glass of beer in his hand; Mila and Sara were talking in a corner, and Seung Gil was sitting and just browsing through his phone.

 

 

[# I’m in the mood for love](https://youtu.be/Gg7OUG9V_cw?t=1m6s),

simply because you’re near me” sang Victor.

# Funny, but when you’re near me

I’m in the mood for love.”

“Seems like someone is getting serenaded tonight.” Winked Mila as Yuuri passed by.

Yuuri frowned, confused.

# Heaven is in your eyes

Bright as the stars we’re under

Oh! Is it any wonder

I’m in the mood for love?” kept singing Victor.

 

Yuuri took a glass of orange juice from the table.

Victor’s voice was very deep and soft, and sounded quite fit for this type of singing.

 

“ # Why stop to think of whether” joined in Mila, smiling.

# This little dream might fade?

We’ve put our hearts together” joined in Chris.

# Now we are one, I’m not afraid!” they sang.

 

Victor smiled. He glanced at Yuuri.

Yuuri blushed and downed his orange juice.

He was glad it wasn’t alcohol.

 

# If there’s a cloud above

If it should rain we’ll let it

But tonight, forget it!

I’m in the mood for love!”

 

Victor did some variations, his hands jumping and dancing around the piano as he moved his shoulders with the rhythm of the song.

He moved on to the [next song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4-GvjKsN-oM). Fred E. Alhert. I don't know why. 

Yuri knew that song. His mother loved to play it sometimes on the stereo. 

He blushed. 

He knew Victor liked Jazz, that was just a nice genre to play at a party.

Why was he blushing?

He looked away from the pianist, his eyes scrutinising the room in search of something else to focus on. Phichit, where was Phichit?

He looked on the corner at the exact moment when Mila decided to kiss Sara.

 

Yuuri took his eyes away to give them privacy.

His gaze landed on Emil playing with a very embarrassed Michele, who kept yelling at him as the other guy seemed to have the time of his life.

 

# I don’t know why, I love you like I do

I don’t know why, I just do.

I don’t know why you thrilled me like I do

I don’t know why, you just do.”

 

Chris smiled sadly looking at Victor.

Chris’ boyfriend came from behind and took his hand to drag him into a slow dance.

Victor gave a quick glance at Yuuri as he kept playing.

 

# You never seem to want my romancing,

The only time you hold me

Is when we’re dancing.”

 

Chris made his boyfriend twirl on the spot.

 

# I don’t know why I love you like I do,

I don’t know why, I just do.”

 

Victor ended with a quick arpeggio on the piano.

 

 

Yuuri went to look for more orange juice and knocked down the whole bottle: the juice spread over the white cloth on the table and made another two bottles (luckily securely sealed and yet unopened) with it. He made an unholy high pitched sound as he hurried to lean down, his hands frenetically looking for a tissue in his pockets.

“That is just painful to watch.” said a voice.

Yuuri retracted, ready to apologise.

Then he realised Georgi was looking towards Victor, who had now moved on to sing ‘[I'd love to make love to you.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Bqrsop03kTg)’

“Why is it painful?” asked Yuuri, who had found a pack of tissues on the corner of the table and was harvesting as many of them as he could find to clean up his mess.

“His heart is just bursting.” whined Georgi.

 

He looked at Yuuri “why don’t you talk to him, Yuuri?” he asked, putting a hand on his shoulder.

 

Yuuri bit his lips.

He frowned “Alright. I will?” He said.

He didn’t really think there was this big thing to talk about, although Victor seemed more stressed than usual that week.

 

“Thank you.” Sighed Georgi “you know, he might not look like it, but Vitya is very delicate when it comes to feelings.”

 

Yuuri nodded.

 

As soon as he was off the piano he would ask him if there was something wrong. It was just plain talking, he could do it. He was already feeling more confident to talk to Victor about feelings.

 

 

 

He stared at the man playing some piano variations on ‘I[’m an Errand Boy for Rhythm](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BkZkfbekKgA)’, which had started some lively dance offs in the audience area.

 

He smiled.

 

It seemed incredible how much his life had change in less than a month. He thought he was going to fight with all his strength and determination just to go back to play with other people or to play at competitive levels; that he would waste months to find another decent tutor after Celestino, that he would have never had the chance to be in the same orchestra as Victor Nikiforov.

 

And now Victor Nikiforov was in front of him, playing Nat King Cole on the Concert Hall piano where he used to play his recitals as a kid, and not only they were going to play together, but he seemed to consider Yuuri a friend, or something. It was nice, but quite a lot to take in when thought about it rationally.

 

Yuuri looked at his glass of juice: ripples formed on the liquid.

 

Victor looked at him, and smiled.

Yuri jumped, startled, and waved back: his elbow hit a bottle of wine that tragically fell on the table, and then rolled down on the floor, and smashed down as the liquid spread all over the clothe on the table, the floor, and the shoes of everyone who was standing close.

Yuuri emitted an unholy screech.

Victor let out a laugh, as he focused on the piano again.

 

 

After another two songs Minako stretched her fingers and demanded to get a hold of the piano to show off a bit, sending Victor to get himself a drink and some fresh air.

 

Victor went to the table to get some vodka. Yuuri was on the other side of the room  to throw away the army of stained tissues he had collected in his quest to clean the table, after he had managed to knock the water jar in his attempt to clean his mess made by knocking out the wine bottle.

 

Getting to and from the room proved to be more complicated than expected, since there were couples and trios dancing everywhere and moving around. He was stopped by Phichit and Minami who wanted to talk about planning to go all together on a trip to the ice palace outside Hasetsu. Yuuri nodded distractedly, keeping an eye on Victor, who stayed at the buffet. 

 

When he came back, Victor was at his third glass of vodka.

“Hey, Victor.” Began Yuuri, sweating from the stuffed air of the room “how is it going?”

Victor smiled “Mh? Fine! How are you? It’s quite hot in here, or is it just me?”

Yuuri chuckled “yes, it is quite stuffed. Do you want to go outside? I need some fresh air.”

Victor looked at him, and nodded.

Yuuri took his hand and had him follow him.

 

 

 

They stopped outside a serving machine to get a bottle of cold water for Victor, who whined and refused it at first, but then he accepted it and went on walking sipping from it from time to time.

Yuuri kept glancing at him.

“Victor…” he began.

“Mh?”

“… are you okay? ”

Victor smiled “Of course! Why would you think that?”

“I just fear you might be getting a bit stressed, that’s all. Georgi said you looked a bit down, and, well, he has known you for longer than I do, so I thought… well…” Said Yuuri.

Victor sighed “Yeah, well, I am a bit stressed, but it’s fine.”

Yuuri glared at his face: he looked serene, but his eyes were a bit distant.

“Do you want to talk about it?” offered Yuuri.

Victor smirked. He took a sip from the bottle of water.

“Nah!” he chirped “I need a beer.” He said, patting Yuuri on the back.

 

Yuuri sighed.

 

They kept walking, Victor strolling beside Yuuri, humming more blues.

 

Yuuri looked up: the sky had a few light clouds, and there was quite a number of stars. It was cold and humid, but the temperature was not unpleasant.

 

Victor groaned “Yuuri…” he began.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Am I doing everything right?” he asked.

 

Yuuri raised his eyebrows: that was sudden and unexpected.

 

“Yes! Absolutely!” he said, decisively “Everyone in the orchestra loves you! You are doing very well as a conductor!” he said.

Victor sighed, his smile ever-present “I didn’t mean that…”

“Victor, if you want to talk, you can talk to me.” he said.

 

Victor looked at the bottle.

 

“I don’t know what you are referring to, but I can assure you that you are doing a good job, and –”

“Yuuri…”

 

Yuuri turned to face Victor “Mh?”

Victor leaned towards Yuuri’s face.

His lips opened slightly, and he slowly got closer to Yuuri.

 

Yuuri’s heartbeat got suddenly louder. He was so close Yuuri could feel his breath on his skin.

 

Victor took a breath in.

 

His lips touched Yuuri’s, and lingered there for a moment.

 

He breathed out, looking at Yuuri.

 

Yuuri looked at him, his face full red.

Victor blushed, straightening his back “Sorry…” Said Victor, “I thought…”

Yuuri took his sleeve and looked intensely at him. Victor blinked.

Yuuri pulled him closer.

Their lips met again. Yuuri put his hand on Victor’s neck. His hair was shorter at the back, and pleasant to the touch. He could smell the clothe detergent of his shirt, his cologne, and the natural smell of his skin. Victor’s bangs caressed his face.

When they stopped, Yuuri realised Victor’s eyes were teary.

“It’s okay. I, to be fair, I... yes, I mean. I…” attempted Yuuri, blushing more and more.

Victor’s face softened. He offered his hand.

“Shall we dance again?” he asked.

Yuuri frowned for a moment at that ‘again’, but he smiled.

“Of course. But we don’t have music.”

Victor chuckled, and his eyes softened. He was gorgeous.

“I shall make the music. Give me your hand.”

Yuuri did so, enchanted but that man’s laughter.

 

Victor took his hand, caressing his fingers with his thumb in the process, and brought him close to his chest.

 

They started dancing on the spot, close to each other.

 

Then Victor’s voice started [singing](https://youtu.be/EGHmF2VE-dk) quietly into Yuuri’s ear.

 

# I love you, there’s nothing to hide,

It’s better than burning inside,

I love you, no use to pretend,

There! I said it again”

 

Yuuri closed his eyes, and followed his frenetic heartbeat and the waves of their slow dancing.

 

#I’ve said it, what more can I say,

Believe me, there’s no other way,

I love you, I will to the end,

There! I’ve said it again”

 

They danced calmly in the empty street.

 

Yuuri tried to recall the song, but he realised that although he recognised it he did not remember a single line from it, and couldn’t join Victor in the singing.

 

# I try to drum up,

A phrase that will sum up,

All that I feel for you.

But what good are phrases,

The thought that amazes,

Is you love me,

And it’s heavenly.”

 

Yuuri started stroking Victor’s back.

 

# Forgive me for wanting you so,

But one thing I want you to know,

I’ve loved since heaven knows when,

There! I’ve said it again…”

 

As Victor trailed off with his voice, Yuuri got on tiptoes and kissed him.

They stayed close, embracing each other and rocking softly in a slow dance without music.

Yuuri’s heart was beating so quickly he feared he was going to drop dead at any moment and that would have ruined the evening for Victor.

 

Victor felt like his breath had been cut short, and he could barely let air in. Yuuri’s natural skin smell and deodorant enthralled him and he felt safe in that embrace. He landed a kiss on Yuuri’s ebony hair.

 

“Shall we go inside again?” asked Victor.

“I don’t really want to go back. There’s too many people.” Admitted Yuuri.

“Yeah, I get that. Where shall we go, then?”

Yuuri hesitated “I’m really tired.” he said.

Victor chuckled “yeah, me too.”

 

They kept hugging each other.

 

“So, the onsen?” enquired Victor.

Yuuri nodded.

“Can we…” began Victor “can we sleep together? – I mean on the same bed, I don’t…” he blushed.

Yuuri laughed “We can do that.” He said “but only if Makkachin can sleep on my side.”

“He will be on mine, he’s used that way, I’m afraid.” explained Victor.

“You don’t know it. Dogs find me irresistible.” joked Yuuri. “I’m every dog’s friend.”

“You had a dog, didn’t you? Your mother mentioned it to me.”

“Yes. He was a poodle. Like Makka, but smaller.”

“How was he called?”

Yuuri hesitated “… Vicchan.” He admitted.

Victor frowned “isn’t that how your mother calls me?”

Yuuri nodded “it’s diminutive for Victor.”

Victor made the sums “… so you named your dog after me?”

Yuuri blushed “… maybe?”

Victor laughed “oh, well, I’m flattered!”

Yuuri’s face reached a very deep shade of crimson.

 

Victor took Yuuri’s hand and kissed it “I’m so glad I met you, Yuuri.” He said.

 

Yuuri felt his heart skipping a beat.

 

“Shall we go inside, then?” Victor suggested.

Yuuri nodded.

 

And they went, hand in hand.

 

 

 

They kept talking about what the past week had been like for them, and Yuuri teased Victor for being cheesy a couple of times. He quickly discovered Yuri was not wrong about Victor’s lame puns. Although he was guilty of finding them tragically funny.

They reached Victor’s room and were greeted by Makkachin, who had been left behind in case they wanted to put loud music in the hall.

The two of them crashed on the mattress, exhausted.

Victor embraced Yuuri. His skin smelled so delicate and fresh. He couldn’t get enough of it.

Yuuri closed his eyes, caressing Victor’s hands. He turned to face him, and caressed his hair.

 

It was so soft.

 

Their eyes met. Victor leaned in and kissed him.

His lips were even softer than his hair.

 

They stayed like that, cuddling and kissing, until they could barely keep their eyes open.

“Yuuri?” called Victor.

“Mh?”

“Why did you behave like we never met before?” he sheepishly asked.

“Mmmh?” Yuuri opened his eyes “what do you mean?”

Victor frowned “you don’t remember?”

 

Silence.

 

“The banquet at Vipolže?”

Yuuri froze “I… I don’t remember anything about a banquet at Vipolže.” He admitted.

“Ah! But I do remember I was very hungover the next day.” He quickly added.

Victor held him closer. He chuckled “That makes sense.” He whispered.

 

Then he started chuckling, trying his best to repress a full laughter.

“Why, w-what happened?” asked Yuuri, slightly worried.

Victor shrugged, still trying to keep his laughter quiet “Oh, a few things!”  

He chuckled “You got drunk on champagne. Started a dance off. Played the piano in front of everyone. Stole my heart. You know, business as usual.”

 

Yuuri froze.

 

Eh?

 

Victor chuckled louder “you actually invited me here, that’s why you behaved like you were surprised to see me!”

 

Yuuri felt his blood leaving his face.

 

Eeeh?

 

Victor hugged him close “Oh, I’m so glad it’s not because of something I did.”

 

Yuuri opened his mouth.

 

He closed it.

 

He opened it again.

 

His eyes were very heavy and he really just wanted to hide under the heavy blankets.

 

But damn he really wanted to know now.

 

He caressed Victor’s hand as he felt his eyes getting really heavy, slipping more and more into the realm of dreams.

“You’re going to explain all of this tomorrow morning.” he muttered.

“Surely.” giggled Victor.

“I’m tired now.”

“Okay.”

“Goodnight, so.”

“Goodnight.”

 

He hesitated.

He hugged Victor closely and buried his head in Victor’s chest.

 

Victor kissed his head “I love you.” He breathed.

Yuuri mouthed “I love you too.”

 

 

 

 

Sibelius - Mazurka, Op.81 No.1.

La Capricieuse: Elgar.

Hora Staccato: Dinicu.

Lotus Land op. 47 no. 1: Cyril, arr. By Kreisler

Op. 6 Souvenir du Moscou: Wienawski

Death of Juliet: Prokofiev

Albéniz: Rumores de la Caleta

Schubert: Valse Caprice No. 6

 

Victor threw the music sheets on Yuuri’s lap as he was sitting in the studio and taking a sip of water after one hour of technical warm ups.

 

“What are these?” asked Yuuri, really hoping they were not what he thought they were.

“Your competition pieces. I gathered it’s time we start preparing you for one. Pick three.”

“Ah…” they were.

 

Damn.

 

Yuuri looked at them: they were all quite hard. Like, really hard. Like, “definitely out of his league” hard.

 

Did Victor really think he would be able to pull those off?

 

“I think you can do it.” Said Victor, preventing his question “Besides, I know that Yuri is bringing La Ronde des Lutins, so we need something technically as challenging if we want you to qualify with him.”

 

Yuuri frowned: Yuri was bringing what now?

 

 

He sighed, trying to be pragmatic and not to think about his brain internally screaming in panic.

 

“So do we have a date for the competition already?”

Victor shrugged “I signed you up for one in Tokio, the same one Yuri’s going to. Also, I signed you for one in Moscow and one in Hong Kong.” He smiled “I think you need to practice playing for competitions and audiences; your playing is good, but your anxiety will be hard to get rid of, and getting used to these kind of things will help you. How many competitions have you attended before?”

Yuuri attempted a smile “… six? I never made it past the final selection.”

 

Victor smiled. He went behind Yuuri and put his hands on his shoulders “Basically, you tend to tense up whenever you feel anxious, and that screws up with your playing. When you play the violin you need to be aware of everything, from your shoulders to your jaw to the tip of your fingers. You need to be more relaxed.” He put some weight on his shoulders and started to move them.

Yuuri straightened his back: that was oddly relaxing and tensing at the same time.

Victor breathed on Yuuri’s neck “you know…” he whispered “we could do some yoga together, if you like.” Yuuri felt a shiver running through his back.

He blushed “If it’d help…”

Victor stroke Yuuri’s left arm and took his hand: his finger ran like silk on the back of Yuuri’s hand. He brought Yuuri’s hand to his lips and kissed it “I think it would.”

Yuuri turned to look at Victor.

 

They looked at each other.

Yuuri closed in for a kiss. “So are we still on a break?” he asked.

Victor looked up on the clock hanging on the wall “we still have five minutes.” He said.

 

He smiled at Yuuri: how could he like someone so much?

 

He caressed his cheek, staring into his eyes.

He kissed his neck.

 

Then, he picked him up from the chair “Cuddleeeeees!” he chirped. Yuuri laughed.

 

Victor laid him on the floor, and looked at him from above. They kissed.

 

Then Victor slowly dropped on him like a very heavy blanket.

“… Victor?”

“Mh?”

“I love you but you are heavy.” Laughed Yuuri.

Victor whined, and rolled on the side.

 

Yuuri caressed his face, and kissed his forehead.

Victor passed a hand on it, and made a weird discontented face.

“Your forehead is really big.” Commented Yuuri, smiling.

Victor pouted. He dramatically rolled on his belly.

“That’s it, that’s more than I can take” he whined “I’m hurt.”

Yuuri laughed. He went over Victor and kissed his cheek “well, I love it. It offers a lot of space to kiss.”

Victor whined “Noooo! Don’t say that!” he covered his face, laughing.

Yuuri took his hands away from his face, and kissed his forehead.

Once, twice, three times.

“All of the kisses” he said.

Victor caught his lips before he was able to place a fourth kiss.

 

“Yuuri…” he started.

Yuuri smiled “Mh?”

“Since you went for my forehead can I touch your belly?”

Yuuri blushed, his arms automatically crossing and pulling his shirt down.

“Why what how wait what?”

Victor laughed “pleaaase?”

Yuuri sighed. He closed his eyes and opened his arms.

Victor poked his chubby belly. Then he started tickling around it, giggling.

“I love it!” he declared.

Yuuri covered his face, that reached new levels of overly saturated crimson.

Victor kissed his uncovered skin.

Yuuri looked him, red in the face.

He looked away, lost in thought.

 

When he looked back at Victor, Victor had stopped playing with his tummy to look at him.

God, he was gorgeous.

“Can I tell you a secret?” said Yuuri, passing his hand through his hair.

Victor looked at him: his hair fell slowly back to his forehead, and the sight of his soft, brown eyes warmed his chest.

He was so handsome.

“please don’t tell me you’re married already.” joked Victor, to ease his own fluttering heart.

Yuuri started laughing really hard.

“Victoor!” he complained, blushing for not being able to hold up his serious face “You ruined the moment!”

Victor laughed, sitting up “Sorry, моя люба, I couldn’t resist.” He kissed Yuuri’s cheek.

Yuuri hugged him “let’s stay like this another two minutes.” He insisted.

“We need to get back to rehearsals, мои котик.” Smiled Victor.

“Just two more minutes.” Muttered Yuuri.

Victor nodded, smiling.

 

He stayed still, his hand stroking Yuuri’s back, breathing in Yuuri’s natural skin smell on his neck.

God, he prayed that moment could last forever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yoyoyoyo!   
> So, in my headcanon Victor LOVES Jazz music because it gave him the chance to improvise and bend the rules and have fun in pubs and at parties with the piano. It became a social outlet which is why he loves it so much. Also, we all know he's a sucker for love songs, so blues is definitely a genre that I can see him loving.  
> Which is also quite fit since Yuuri in this universe likes 20th century music.   
> I love Nat King Cole so I had to put his songs/arrangements somewhere. They are terribly expressive.  
> Is Victor touch starved? Absolutely yes. But not for long.   
> Did Yuuri have an idea Victor liked him? Sort of, but it was more unconscious than conscious. He wouldn't even let himself think about that because it wouldn't be rational (according to him) for someone like Victor to like him of all people.
> 
> Is Yuri really bringing La Ronde the Lutins?  
> Listen, random violinist reading this, I know how impossibly complicated that piece is. I needed something impressive and that piece is something Yuri would totally love to play (in my head at least). We can say that was the parallel to his free skate. 
> 
> Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this! Next week is reading week for me so I hope to write more since I am nearly out of pre-written chapters!   
> Please leave a comment! xxx


	13. Basso continuo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another perspective on the whole orchestra thing.

“I cannot believe we are ten days away from the concert already” whined Mila, her head on the café’s table.

 

Sara smiled, patting her hair “you’ll be fine, Mila.” She took her cup of chocolate “I am more worried about the string section, to be honest.”

Mila looked at her “why?”

“Well, you know, it was because of Yurio that we kept playing the same section today.”

“Nah, no way, why do you think so?”

 

She brought a finger to her lips “he doesn’t listen. Just look at him next time: he is playing like he’s the only person on stage. Which is a bit troublesome when you are the first chair.”

 

Mila sighed “that kid…”

 

“I mean, he’s great, but maybe he should trust the group a bit more.”

“I don’t think he even trusts Victor...”

“Why is he here then?”

Mila laughed bitterly “I think he wants to get back at Vitya for not accompanying him like he said he would.”

 

“Oh…”

 

Sara sipped her chocolate.

 

Mila smiled “what are you thinking about?”

“Nothing, just… I am getting worried about Mickey.”

“Did he gave out to you again?”

“No, it’s just… he’s been here nearly two weeks and he’s not even in the orchestra. I know he has work to do back in Italy but he doesn’t want to leave me alone in Japan.”

 

Mila shrugged “talk to him.”

“It’s not easy…” Sara sighed “I don’t know, Mila. I love him, but sometimes I just wish he stayed the fuck away and let me live my own life. We don’t need to be working together all the time, do you know what I mean?”

“What does your mother say?”

“She is just glad I have him to protect him as I am abroad.” She snorted “Like I need protection, we are the same age! And…” she looked down “I am also worried about him. We are in two different musical fields, none of us can really grow career-wise if we don’t let go of each other. I mean, there will be times when we’ll have to live in different countries for a job! And I love him, I really do, but he needs to learn to be on his own, or he’s never going to go far with his singing, and he loves singing, I know he does…”

Mila grasped Sara’s hand as she grew more emotional “hey,” she said “it will be fine. Do you want me to talk to him?”

Sara shook her head “no, it has to be me. I don’t think he likes you very much.”

Mila winked “why, ‘cause I stole his baby sister’s heart?” she blew her a kiss.

 

Sara blushed. Then she laughed “God, you are so cheesy!”

“Is it working?”

“A little bit!”

“Good, ‘cause I have more.”

“Save it for later – hey, Emil!” she greeted.

The Czech musician smiled at them from the counter: he had a travelling cup in his hand.

“Hey-oh, ladies! How’s it going?” he said, grabbing a chair.

“We were just talking… about the orchestra.” Said Sara.

“Yep. The orchestra.” Said Mila, slurping her bubble tea.

“Totally the orchestra.”

Emil smiled “Are you excited for the concert? I cannot believe it’s so close!”

Mila groaned “Don’t remind me…”

“You’ll be fine.” Said Emil “you have a small part. I should be worried.”

“I think we all believe we are the ones who should worry.” Commented Sara.

“Welcome to the orchestra!” cheered Emil, opening his arms “Personally I like the pressure. God knows I wouldn’t to batshit if I didn’t have a deadline.”

Sara smiled.

“By the way, doesn’t Mickey have rehearsals next week?” asked Emil.

Sara groaned “I really need to try to talk some sense to him.”

“Ah… he’s doing it again, isn’t he? The overprotective brother?”

Sara groaned again.

Emil smiled “Cheer up! I can talk some sense to him!”

Sara sighed “I think I need to do it, but thanks, Emil. I don’t think he’ll see reason otherwise.”

Mila laid her head on her fist. She looked at her girlfriend with a frown.

Sometimes she really wanted to take Michele Crispino by the shoulders and shake him really hard.

 

 

The violins started humming low like crickets in summer.

The winds joined in, drawing a line of thought, a bird singing from a tree, his song throwing light on the snow-ridden landscape.

A dialogue of wind and snow.

Then, the low sound of the earth.

Victor loved Tchaikovsky, and Winter Daydreams was, for some reason, one of his favourite pieces. It was like stepping in a fairytale, like visiting a childhood memory now faded by time and fatigue.

He built the crescendo with the orchestra, and took the main theme again like the stream of a waterfall. Then, a hit, and two, and three, like stones splashing in a lake.

And then the calm.

His ear caught something wrong.

He frowned.

The piece had seemed to go nicely so far, why did it feel like it was falling apart right now?

He focused on the sound.

Someone was playing it wrong.

Way too strongly, and a tad faster.

He went through building the climax, leading the dialogue of the brass and the stirngs.

Then, he made a gesture of closure mid-air.

He turned to Yuri, stared at him for a second.

He sighed.

“Guys, I know it’s late, but you really need to be focused on what everyone else is doing. You can’t just play by yourselves. This is an orchestra, not a solo piece.”

Yuuri looked confused around him: did he do it wrong?

Yuri scowled. He knew Victor was talking to him especially. He had seen him looking at him.

His hands trembled: he felt like he was suffocating there.

Beka looked at him, expressionless, from all over the cello section.

Sara and Mila exchanged looks.

Victor pinched the bridge of his nose “Let’s start again from the upbeat bar two-hundred-and-fifty. It’s getting late.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the short chapters!   
> Also, I think I will have to write a new one soon, because tomorrow I am publishing the last one I had prepared.   
> Luckily enough, I more or less know where I am going, so I should be able to cover it no problem!  
> I hope you enjoyed!


	14. Dissonance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of extremely light angst.

Victor collapsed on the stool in his room, laying his back against the wall, his hand on his face.

 

He rubbed his fingers against his skin, circling his palms on his eyes, and shook his head vigorously.

 

_Right._

He needed to study the pieces.

 

He sighed heavily, resting his head against the wall. He looked at the darkness outside his window.

It was so incredibly quiet. 

 

_I really want to sleep._

Conducting was more exhausting than he thought.

 

And what was happening with Yura? He was always a bit of a show-off, but he knew how to play in an ensemble.

 

He sighed, and faced the piano.

 

_Right._

 

He opened the lid. He needed to think. He needed to vent.

_I need to play._

 

 

 

Yuuri opened his eyes.

 

He was laying in his bed with the lights off, still fully clothed from the day. He didn’t even wash his face when he came back, he just crashed on the bed, Makka following him instead of Victor.

 

And the trill of a piano had just made him shut his eyes open.

He sat on the bed, Makka yawning and rubbing his muzzle to Yuuri’s shirt in the attempt to get cuddles.

 

Yuuri stood up and opened the door.

 

It was definitely coming from Victor’s room.

 

He made gesture to Makka to follow him outside as he walked out of his room, following the sound of the piano, that was now trilling higher and higher.

 

Beethoven.

 

Appassionata.

 

A rumbling sound of chords overlapping each other like strong winds clashing during a storm.

 

Yuuri held his breath as he walked down the dark corridor with his phone as his only light to guide him towards Victor's room.

 

The piano reverberated through the entire floor, the notes echoing in the wood and the walls, and vibrating through his chest. 

He passed the closed rooms of the other guests. He wondered if they would have been angry at Victor for this.

 

 

 

He stopped in front of Victor’s room, spellbound.

 

 

Victor was just…

 

_He is just…_

 

 

Was there a word to describe Victor playing the piano?

 

 

He closed his eyes, trying to picture him playing the piece.

It was a very turbulent one, growing stronger and stronger, to then descend like droplets of rain onto the ground, growing into an avid torrent that could erode mountains and trace new rivers.

 

 

Then up, a single chord being played at short intervals, and not far away, a higher melody following a dialogue with it.

 

 

 

Everytime Victor played, his mind got clearer. He could focus on what he was doing, on creating a continuous dialogue with his instrument, with the sound he was creating, and forget about everything else.

And everytime he felt overwhelmed, he always turned to the piano. And he often turned to Beethoven. Because he loved Tchaikovsky, but he thought of Beethoven as an old friend. The first concert he ever played on the piano was a piece by Beethoven. Heck, the first pieces he learned as a kid when messing around were by Beethoven.

 

And so Beethoven had become a sort of a comfort artist to go back to when he felt overwhelmed: he had a good ear, he could memorise things easily. He memories every Beethoven piece he could find.

 

Of course, some were harder than others.

 

But the Appassionata was an old friend.

 

His hands danced on the piano as he repeated the initial theme softly underneath the low turbulence of the low chords, the light dazzling off his white fingers as they shifted across the keys. He was getting faster as his chest felt more and more tense with stressed and his mind suppressed his thoughts.

Jesus, he needed to breathe.

_A single melody, chords. A single melody, chords. Like the first time._

He repeated the crescendo, and the low chords as the higher part got quieter and gave the feeling of falling down.

He kept going, staring at his hands with a blank expression, as he developed the melody again, until he flowed in a single line of thought, and then again into a flowing river of emotions and thoughts.

He wondered what Beethoven was feeling like when he composed that.

The leading voice kept going round and round in circles as the low notes took a tranquil take to the main theme, and proceeded to give the whole piece a new sense of harmony that threatened to break at any moment.

It overflowed, and the current spread over the valley, gallons of water rolling down as they submerged grass, stones, and flowers.

 

He breathed out as he slowed down, low notes producing a cavernous echo.

 

And he went with full force again, the main theme repeating in another, more sinister key.

 

 

Yuuri’s heart was beating really hard.

 

Victor had reached the final section of the first movement, the sound getting softer.

 

He breathed in, as the echo of the piano filled the room with its last drone.

 

He wanted to go in and chat with Victor.

 

But he felt paralysed.

 

 

Victor passed his arm on his forehead to dry the sweat that was rolling down his skin.

 

Well, he did feel a bit better.

 

He stood up: he needed water.

He opened the door and found Yuuri standing there, staring at the floor, his hand clutched on his chest.

“Yuuri? Are you okay?” he asked, alarmed.

Yuuri jumped, his flow of thoughts interrupted “Victor! So-sorry! I heard you play, I…”

“That’s fine, you can come in.” said Victor “I was just going to get some water.”

 Yuuri nodded “I-I can fetch you some if you want…”

“I really need to walk.” Replied Victor.

“Oh.”

“It will be five minutes, you can wait me here if you want.” Victor walked past him. He stopped.

He turned with a tired smile “To be honest: I really wanted to talk.”

 

 

 

 

Beka put a cold bottle of water against Yuri’s cheek.

“GHAAAA! ARE YOU CRAZY?!” growled Yuri.

Otabek opened the bottle and took a sip, his face neutral.

 

He sat next to Yuri.

 

“It’s quite late.” He told him “you should rest.”

Yuri brought his knees on his chest “I am not tired.”

 

Otabek looked at the onsen: he had worried when Yuri had left his room in the middle of the night.

He took another sip.

“Do you need some water?” he asked.

 

Yuri looked at him for a second, then he snatched the bottle and started to drink.

 

“You know, Yuri…” began Otabek “asking for help is not a bad thing.”

“The fuck? Why should I ask for help?”

“I’m just saying…” said Otabek “...friends help each other. You don’t need to suck it up all the time.”

 

Yuri grunted, closing the lid of the bottle.

 

He gave it back to Beka without looking at him.

 

“… so?” encouraged Otabek.

“So what? I don’t need anyone’s help.”

“Yuri…”

“Alright, it’s fucking Victor, okay?!” snapped Yuri “I can’t stand him anymore, I feel like I’m going to punch him at any moment now!”

Otabek nodded.

“I cannot stand how he’s always at me for every little thing! I hate it!”

Otabek nodded again.

“And then the fact that he gave pig-fingers the solo part! I cannot stand it! He’s a horrible solo! His bowing sucks!”

Otabek sighed.

“I grant he has nice fingering, but every time he plays a slow note I get anxious because of him! It’s like a fucking earthquake, and Victor is an incompetent tutor for not correcting that and I hate it!”

Otabek nodded again. It was better to let him talk.

“I just wish he could just have kept his promise, instead of running around doing things he is not even able to do!” He grunted.

 

Otabek looked at him.

“I think he’s not wrong.” He said at last.

“Yuri, you are a good solo, but you don’t have much experience in ensemble playing, do you?”

Yuri grunted “I do have some experience.”

“You know, when you are in an ensemble you don’t need to be outstanding to give a good performance. You just need to be there with everyone else.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! Don’t you start, too! I know that!” blurted Yuri.

He looked away “It’s fucking hard, okay? Victor is not the most explicit conductor and sometimes I just don’t know what the heck he wants.”

Otabek looked at him “why don’t you ask him?”

Yuri frowned “Because he doesn’t fucking listen!”

Otabek sighed “he will never know if you don’t tell him. He will keep thinking it’s your fault.”

Yuri sighed “I guess!” he blurted. He stood up.

“Going to bed?” asked Otabek.

“Maybe.” Said Yuri.

 

Otabek looked at him as he entered Yutopia.

 

He looked up at the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the end of my pre-written chapters, which means tomorrow is likely to be shorter.   
> The good news is that I nearly finished my presentation for college so once that is done I should have more time to write more.
> 
> Also, HAVE YOU SEEN THE NEW OFFICIAL ART? I was so happy when I saw Beka with a double bass!   
> My biggest shock was seeing JJ with a viola, tbh.


	15. Bark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Halloween "special".   
> Does it tie with the story? Yes.

Makkachin kept his eyes closed as Yuuri’s fingers passed through his curls.

He seemed to be tense. He knew that his papa’s friend  was often on the edge of running away, but it was night and everything was quiet and they were alone waiting for papa to come back, so there was no reason to be tense. Was he worried about some invisible threat?

He brought his head up to lick him on the chin.

 _Don’t worry, friend, I am here to protect you._ He said.

“Makka […] fine […] Victor here!” said the man, cracking a smile.

Makkachin tilted his head.

 

Yuuri had a small dog on his shoulder.

 

He always had since the first moment he saw him.

The small dog was breathing with his tongue out and was just staring at Makka. Makka stared back.

The dog did not smell, and Makka thought it was some kind of special dog.

He wasn’t the only person to have a special someone next to them, but they usually went in and out. Doggo was always around Yuuri.

Victor did not have a special doggo. But he had Makka and Makka hoped he was enough.

“[…] wonder […] Victor […] say”

Makka looked at Yuuri. He seemed in distress.

 _No sadness, it will be fine._ Told him Makkachin as he brushed his nuzzle against Yuuri’s arm.

Yuuri started scratching his ears.

Ah, yes.

That was nice.

“Good boy.” Said Yuuri.

Makka barked happily.

 

The door opened, papa’s feet entering the room.

Makka moved away from Yuuri as he went to greet Victor.

He jumped at him _Cuddles! Also Yuuri! Tense!_ He said.

Victor gave him a pat on the head and went to sit down next to Yuuri.

 

“Is everything alright?” asked Yuuri.

Victor nodded, taking a sip form his cup of tea.

“I just needed something warm.” He replied.

Yuuri nodded, looking down as he fidgeted around his shirt.

“So…” started Yuuri, his voice shaking “what did you want to tell me?”

Victor sighed “I just need advice.” He said.

“Oh.”

 

What Makka noticed was that Yuuri’s tension disappeared completely.

The doggo jumped down from Yuuri’s shoulder and went towards Makkachin, who was now lying on Victor’s bed.

“Don’t know […] do […] Yura.” Said Victor.

“What […]?”

The small dog sniffed Makkachin. Makkachin went around the couch as he tried to sniff him back, no avail.

 _You are a weird one._ He told him.

The small dog barked back.

“[…] tried to talk to him?” asked Yuuri.

Victor sighed. Makka looked at him: did he need him?

Yuuri put a hand on Victor’s shoulder “It’s okay.” He said “you will be fine.”

The small dog sat next to Makkachin.

 _Papa was never so bold with others._ He said.

Makkachin looked at him. So Yuuri was his papa.

 _I am happy for him._ He said.

Makka wigged his tail happily _He’s happy because he’s with my papa. My papa makes me very happy too. He’s very good._

“[…] you talk to him?” asked Victor.

Yuuri jerked.

“WHAT?”

The tiny poodle went towards Yuuri. Makka made a low bark _Wait._ He said.

“he listens to you, I […] what to say.”

Yuuri brought his hand on his face.

 

 

“Well, he doesn’t really want me to give him advice, I can assure you that.” He grunted.

Victor bit his lower lip “Please? I know he’s angry at me.”

“Victor, he doesn’t even talk to me. He obviously thinks I stole you from him.”

Victor sighed “I am sure he doesn’t. Yuri can be a bit dramatic sometimes but he is very pragmatic. I am sure he already knows what to do without me.”

Yuuri sighed.

“Alright.” He said.

“I shall try to see what’s wrong.”

 

Makka looked at the two. He did not catch what exactly was going on, but Victor had asked Yuuri something and Yuuri seemed to have said yes, although he seemed very tense about it.

The small dog brushed his nuzzle against Yuuri’s hand. It sort of passed through.

Yuuri passed that hand through his hair.

“Thank you, thank you!” cried Victor as he plunged onto Yuuri.

Makka wigged his tail.

Yuuri hugged Victor back. The small doggo barked at Makkachin, his tail wigging as well.

_Everything is going to be fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the chapter is so short! I finished my pre-written chapters and I was busy all day, so this was all I could do. I shall try write an extra episode next week to compensate.   
> I wanted to do something that felt a bit halloween-y since we are in the right season. Vicchan came to mind.


	16. Pause

_Hello, ladies, gentlemen, and gentlenbies, this is your captain speaking._

  
_Just to let you know that we'll be taking a short break this week, as I had to dedicate more time to my college assignments, and have to present a draft of my dissertation tomorrow - so that took me some time._

_I thought about writing a chapter all the same, but as I am feeling very tired lately I don't think it would be good, so I prefer to take it easy this week and give myself more time to write and edit so I can give you something of acceptable quality. Also, I am accumulating a lot of stress and my shoulders are killing me so I need to take it down a notch._

 

_The chapters are planned, and I am glad to announce that we are three chapters way from the end of the first season._

 

_In the meanwhile, I shall take these two days to answer any question you might have, and to take in any prompts and suggestions._

 

_I hope you have a nice weekend! =)_


	17. Ostinato

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time to sort a few things in the orchestra!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yooo! I am back! Thank you for waiting for me!

Polonaise Rondò.

The music opened with a cheerful theme that was taken by two different instruments, and then develop into the first section. It was not much different from a group of birds chirping and flying all around a tree in spring.

The cello started the solo, followed by the violin: the two instruments would start a dialogue that would in turn be taken by the piano, and would develop in a jaunty tune.

It was, overall, a bright and energising flow resembling a game.

Until the second part of the movement, where the orchestra took over, and then left the path open again for the violin, the cello, and the piano to develop a second, still brilliant, but more anxious part.

Guang Hong looked at Victor as he conducted the orchestra. The whole movement reminded him of running up the stairs, chased by someone.

The piano started a low drone of sounds that accompanied as a bass the other solos as they went back to the main theme. The orchestra overflowed like glasses full of champagne.

Victor looked at Yuuri.

No eye contact was made, as Yuuri seemed to be more focused on what he was doing. Victor noticed that his brow was slightly sweaty.

 _I should tell him to give more focus to the conductor_ he quickly thought, turning again towards the whole orchestra.

Yuri seemed calmer today, but although his sound seemed to blend better, he couldn’t stay still on his chair, and seemed to be always on the edge of blinding the violinist occupying the nearest chair.

The tempo grew faster.

The piece had improved considerably overall. All those hours rehearsing had paid off. They had a full day of rehearsals just for the solos, and they seemed in good harmony. Yuuri had seemed very flustered at first, but then he had calmed down as Minako entered the piece. Victor reminded himself she used to be his first teacher, and the person who taught him both dance and piano. It followed they had a good dynamic and were well coordinated. It cause him less of a hassle, frankly, because Guang Hong was particularly skilled in ensemble and chamber music, and had blended in with no effort whatsoever.

 

He wondered what made Yuuri switch to the violin, though. His mind couldn’t help but go to that night when Yuuri had showed him his piece. He wished he could hear more of his playing.

For a second he felt a burning feeling as his stomach as the question popped spontaneously into his mind: _was it because of me?_

He focused on the story of the piece he had in front of him: it was trickier to keep the visuals of what you were trying to say when your mind was trying to be everywhere at once.

At least they did not have any more problems of tempo and intonations.

They were two days away from the opening night: he had bargained three nights with Yuuko, all paid in advance, and people had already booked most of the tickets. His fame was something, after all.

However, being so close also meant he wanted them go through the entire piece without stopping, and Victor had to do his best to sign without words what he wanted from the orchestra, and keep any notes in his head for later, so that they would get used to just play it through. Fortunately, they did not have any major mistakes, but hell it was hard to keep himself from stopping the orchestra every thirty seconds.

He just needed to remind himself to tell the oboes to play quieter.

Also, he had to tell the first violins to listen to the others.

Especially Yurio.

Well, he did improve, and of course his technique was extremely good, but he still played like he was the only person in the room, and Victor got the feeling he did not look at him at all. It would have been more of a minor problem if only Yurio wasn’t the first chair and did not drag the entire section with him whenever Victor decided to try something new and their desk was the only one not following him.

He widened his gestures as the orchestra entered in a forte before the last section of the piece.

Yuuri’s sound was brilliant. Maybe because Minako was there, and they had dedicated a whole day just for them to rehearse together; maybe because he had finally got his feelings for Victor out of his system and being able to express them made him more relaxed, but he seemed calmer, and his sound seemed sweeter than usual.

He started the spiccato section, followed by the cello and the piano. It was a lively part that channelled much energy, preparing the piece for the last part, where the orchestra flowed in again, and then three soloist started a scale that would bring them to the very last part.

Yuuri slurred and trilled with Minako’s piano, and they repeated the main theme of the piece.

“Come it’s summer, let’s play and live!” was what the piece told Victor. Let’s live joyously in the time of love, let’s play together and have fun.

The orchestra played the last chords.

Victor closed his fists up in the air.

He stayed still.

“Good.” He said, smiling gently “I think we got the most of it. I have a few notes, would you prefer to get them before or after the break?”

There were groans.

“Alright,” chirped Victor “before it is!”

More groans. Victor ignored them “oboes, you are coming a bit too strong here, it should be like this,” he moved his hands as he sang the part “… but you are like this:” he sang louder and more over the top. There were a few giggles “also, someone in the section might need to change their reed: I don’t know who it is but you are squeaking. Now, first violins…”

He stared at them, inhaling deeply.

“First violins, you are not on your own. And this is Beethoven, not Wagner: could you calm it down a notch?”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” snapped Yuri.

“I mean: could you please play it more in line with the style of the era, and actually look at me as I conduct? It’s been days now that you go on your own.”

“Maybe if you told us what you want!”

“I do tell you what I want, Yuri, but you are not going to know it if you keep focusing just on yourself!”

Silence.

Mila looked at both of them, feeling a twist to her stomach.

Yuuri looked at Victor, his brow in a frown.

“Maybe if you used  words…”

“Mr Nikiforov,” said the violinist behind Yuri “I get what you mean, but Yuri has a point: could you tell us precisely where we go wrong like you do with the other sections?”

Victor took a deep breath. Yuuri noticed that he clasped the podium a bit too vehemently.

He breathed out.

“Fine.”

He turned to Yuuri “Yuuri, can I?” he asked.

Yuuri took a second “Oh? Oh, yeah!” he said, passing him his violin.

Victor took the violin and put it under his chin “I mean like this.”

He played the main theme.

Yuuri looked at him, his chest warming.

“Alright, and what are we doing then?”

Victor sighed “You see, you start with an accent, and then:” he played again, this time adding more decorations.

It sounded like a completely different genre, Yuuri noticed. Like it was a recital or a solo concert.

“You are accompanying the main solos, here, you are not the main part: you need to blend in and support them, but you cannot do that if you keep trying to shove them out of the way – thank you, Yuuri.” He said, giving the violin back to his owner. Yuuri nodded.

“Think about that. We are going to rehearse the whole thing again after the break, and we are fixing everything at the cost of sectioning this score note by note. I shall see you again in forty minutes.”

 

“I am not a fucking mind-reader!” yelled Yuri.

Victor sighed. He did not really know how to respond to that.

“I am not asking you to read my mind, just to pay attention to what I do. I am not playing mime, here.”

“I do pay attention! But you change at every whim, you never stick to one version and you never warn us when you want to change interpretation! Do you know how hard it is to work with that?”

Victor bit his lips: maybe Yuri was right, maybe he was his fault. He leaned onto the wall of the corridor where they decided to bring the argument during the break. His stomach growled: he really didn’t want to deal with this right now.

“Yuri, can you just do it as a favour? Just keep an eye on what I do and listen to the others?”

“I can, because _that’s what I do already_ , you overgrown turnip!” barked Yuri.

“Listen, what is the problem?” said Victor: he was still calm, but his tone of voice was slightly rising “I have been knowing you since you wore diapers and I know your level, and this is not you. Is it because you are not the solo, is that it?”

“What? NO, you fuckhead!”

“Then what?”

“I told you what!”

“Oh, come on, Yuri! You know I know you do not listen or look at the rest of the orchestra! You drag a whole section with you!”

“Did you ever think that maybe that was you not knowing how to fucking conduct?!”

Victor inhaled: calm, he had to stay calm.

“Listen,” he said, lowering his voice “we are not going anywhere arguing like this. I shall try to use words for the rest of the rehearsals, but you need to promise me you will actually pay attention, how does that sound?”

Yuri looked at him, his face twisted in anger.

“Fuck you,” he spit “alright.”

“Victor nodded: this was draining.

“Go have lunch now before the break is over. I shall see you in ten.”

“Fuck off.” Scowled Yuri, walking away.

Victor exhaled, his cheeks puffed. This was going to be a long day.

 

“Well, he did listen to you in the end.” Said Yuuri “you hardly stopped his section in the afternoon.”

Victor nodded: he was lying on Yuuri’s lap in his own room, as Yuuri caressed his hair, his back against the side of the piano.

“Maybe he was right, maybe I am really not good at this.”

Yuuri stopped playing with Victor’s hair, and looked at him: doubt was something rare to see in Victor’s face, let alone to hear it from his very mouth.

“You are doing well,” he said, at last “but you have just started, and this is not the easiest orchestra, nor the pieces you have chosen are the simplest ones. Cut yourself some slack.”

“You did good today.” Said Victor “you seem more relaxed.”

“Yeah, I am.” Smiled Yuuri.

“Any reason in particular?”

Yuuri shrugged “I am just sleeping better.” He said.

He kissed Victor’s forehead “and I get to play with Makka, that is very relaxing.”

Victor side-smiled, looking at Yuuri as he hummed the triple concerto.

He sighed.

“I am sorry we haven’t had any time to try those pieces.” He said.

Yuuri hummed “Mh, we can do that after the concert.” He said.

“Yeah. Listen, Yuuri…” he turned around to face his boyfriend “I was thinking…”

He sighed, and smiled. He took Yuuri’s hands.

“Yeah? Go on?”

“I was thinking…” Victor moved Yuuri’s hands around “What do you think of coming to St. Petersburg after the concert? I mean, we could rehearse at the Conservatoire, and it would be easier for all the flights and the competitions I signed you up for, and, I mean, it doesn’t have to be forever, just a few months, we could try it out.” He paused “I would like it very much.”

Yuuri looked at Victor.

Oh, dear.

His stomach twisted, and his face suddenly felt like paper next to a match.

He started laughing.

Victor tilted his head “Uh? Too much?”

Yuuri shook his head. He enveloped Victor into a hug. He kissed him on the temple.

“I think it’s a good idea.” He said “I like it too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, everybody, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I have this and the second last chapter prepared, but chance there is I might upload the final chapter on Sunday. I really want it to be well descriptive and a good conclusion, so I want to give it more thought.


	18. Recapitulation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara needs to talk to Michele.

Sara’s hand was holding Mila’s as they stopped in front of the Conservatoire.

Sara sighed.

Mila looked at her “are you sure you want me to wait outside?”

Sara nodded “yeah, I need to do this alone.”

“Okay.”

Sara turned to Mila. She smiled, and squeezed her hand.

“Hey,” she said. Mila turned.

“I love you.”

Mila smirked; her cheeks got a bit red, but she snorted away, patting her girlfriend’s head.

“I love you too, now go and get him before he fucks off to lunch.”

Sara nodded. She kissed Mila on the cheek and went towards the entrance.

She turned, and put her thumb up.

Mila answered with her thumb up and a wink.

Well, it was better if she went to get both of them a coffee for later.

 

Sara walked through the room of the conservatoire. She looked at the doors on the first floor: Yuri and Otabek were playing together with the owner of the Ice Palace; Seung Gil was practicing alone, and Guang Hong and Leo were taking a break.

“Hey, Sara!”

Sara turned: Phichit waved at her.

“Trying to find a room to practise?” he said “you can have mine, I just finished for the morning and I was planning on getting lunch before we start with the orchestra.”

Sara smiled “No, I was looking for Mickey. Do you know where he is?”

Phichit shrugged “No, but I saw Emil on the second floor, maybe try there?”

She nodded “Thanks, Phichit.”

Phichit gave her two thumbs up “Happy to be of service!”

 

She found Michele twenty minutes later. He was rehearsing on his own, practicing one of his arias for the next week’s rehearsals. She sighed.

_You can do it._

She knocked on the door.

Michele stopped, and as soon as he looked at her he brightened up “Sara!”

Sara waved “Oh, Miché! Ce l’hai, cinque minuti?”

 

“Listen, Michele, I understand you are worried about leaving me alone…” she started, as they sat down on a bench in front of the studio.

“But you need to go back to Italy.”

Michele frowned “What? Don’t you want to stay in the orchestra?”

“Of course I want to fucking stay in the orchestra!” she blurted “I mean, you should go without me!”

Michele’s face fell “What do you mean?”

Sara got up “You can’t always tag along whenever I go! I can handle myself! You have a job, and I know you care about it, so just go! We can’t always be stuck together, goddammit!”

Michele got up “I cannot leave you alone in friggin’ JAPAN, Sara! What would mom say?! What if something happens? It takes HOURS to get here! I need to watch over you!”

“Yeah, see, that’s the problem: _I don’t want_ you to watch over me! Go live your own life! You want to sing? Go sing and leave me alone! I can live and play without you and I swear to god, Michele Crispino, that’s what I’ll do!”

Michele inhaled sharply “Is this Mila who put you this idea?”

“What? No…”

“Why then?”

“Mickey, I understand you want me to be close to you. I understand you are worried, but we are both adults. I want to try and be independent and so should you! Don’t you want to start living on your own, like nearly anyone of our age else here? Like, look at Emil: he’s more independent than we are and he is frigging eighteen!”

“That’s another situation!”

“Yeah, why?”

“He’s a guy. It’s different.”

Sara’s eyes widened “HOW THE HECK IS IT DIFFERENT?!” she yelled.

“WELL I WOULDN’T WORRY ABOUT HIM BEING IN ANOTHER COUNTRY!”

“HE IS BARELY OF AGE! PLISETSKY IS NOT EVEN OF AGE YET! BUT YOU WOULD TRUST HIM TO LIVE ALONE?!”

“HE IS NOT MY CONCERN! I CARE ABOUT YOU, GODDAMMIT!”

“WELL, DON’T!”

Michele sighed “Sara, you are being a baby.”

“Oh, _I’m_ being a baby?”

“I know you want to be young and all, but I told mom I would protect you here in Japan and…”

“Ah, Miché, ma a va a chill paes!” she retorted “Se stavo ancora appressu a mamma mancu uscìo ‘e casa!”

Michele’s face went scarlet “Beh, what am I supposed to do so?”

She looked away “Just go back to Italy and show up to rehearsals before they decide to fire you. You are still in time to book a ticket before they start.”

“And what about you?”

She scowled at him “I shall care for myself! I am pretty capable of doing it! You should learn too!”

She inhaled sharply.

Michele looked at her, at loss.

“I just want to protect you…” he muttered.

“Well, I don’t want you to.” She grumbled.

He nodded, his eyes getting teary “I see. I’m sorry I bothered you.” He took some steps away from her “It will… It will be better if I go and rehearse. I’ll- I’ll look into tickets during lunch.” He said, and turned away.

Sara’s chest was rising and falling very fast. She closed her eyes and waited for him to close the door.

She inhaled deeply as she stomped out of the corridor.

_It’s done._

She really needed Mila right now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Oh, Miché! Ce l’hai, cinque minuti?” - "Hey Mickey, do you have five minutes?"  
> “Ah, Miché, ma a va a chill paes!” - mild form of "Mickey, go fuck yourself."  
>  “Se stavo ancora appressu a mamma mancu uscìo ‘e casa!” - "if I were to listen to mom I wouldn't have stepped out of the house"
> 
> I still have to write the final chapter because I am terrified of it so I keep procrastinating it. I shall get it done during the weekend I swear!


	19. Encore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Big day arrived

Victor stood on the podium, breathing slowly.

The audience had just stopped clapping at his entrance, and he was ready to begin.

His hand was holding the baton, trembling. _It’s okay._ He could do this.

He looked at the musicians, darkened faces popping out of black clothes.

Yuri looked at him from the solo position.

Yuuri, who had been dethroned last minute, was looking at the score with a red face.

Minako was waiting for him to give them sign to begin.

He nodded.

They started.

And immediately, something was off.

The piano was not tuned.

How did they forget to tune the piano?

And the wind section was in shambles!

And why was Yuri doing the solo? Was that Wienawski he had started playing? Weren’t they doing Beethoven?

“Why are you doing Wienawski?” he asked.

“That was the programme!”

He just realised he had stopped in the middle of conducting. He wanted to disappear.

He looked for Yuuri’s eyes. Yuuri looked away, clearly angered at him. Why? What did he do?

“Mr Nikiforov…” said the first viola.

“We don’t have any music sheets.”

“My stand is broken.”

The other musicians kept playing, the music mixing up with something else, a mash of chords and things he did not recognise. Yuri was playing a double scale. It was off. Everything was off. He needed to pee.

 

Then he woke up.

 

He stared at the ceiling, his eyes blinking, trying to overcome the wave of feelings and false information that he experienced during the dream.

Thank God that was just a dream, he thought.

 

_What day is it?_

 

He turned out to grab his phone, as he realised the double chords were continuing. That must have been one of the violinists practicing in an adjacent room. Couldn’t they bring it to the conservatoire?

Makkachin moved his nuzzle against his chest. He pet his head.

It was the day of the concert, and it was 8pm. He had overslept, but still had a lot of time before he had to go to the Concert Hall.

 

 

 

Someone knocked.

Yuuri whined, putting his pillow above his head. What time was it? It couldn’t be later than nine.

 

“Yuu~ri˜,” sang Victor from beyond the door.

 

Yuuri mumbled in disapproval. What time was it?

 

He went to open the door. Victor’s mouth was stretched in a smile.

“Can I come in?” he asked, his mouth shaped like a heart.

Yuuri did not even reply, too sleepy to form an answer; instead, he let him space to pass.

“Thank you!” chirped Victor. He hummed in the room as Yuuri passed a hand through his face closing the door.

 

“So today is the great day, uh?” began Victor “our debut! How are you feeling, Yuuri?” he looked at him with a soft smile.

“Eh?” blushed Yuuri: he was so sleepy he did not even recall that today was _the_ day.

He let out a suffocated screech.

Victor laughed “You will be fine.” He said, sitting on the unmade bed. He patted on the mattress.

Yuuri sat down next to him. Victor’s smile stretched a bit more.

“I mean it.” He said “you improved a lot since we started. Your passages are cleaner, and you seem more confident in leading the orchestra. I am confident you will be great.” He said. He looked at him.

Yuuri smiled, his cheeks lightly blushed. He looked at his hands fidgeting.

“Thank you.” He said “you will be great as well.” He added quickly.

Victor’s eyes widened as his cheeks flushed. He took his glance away.

“Yeah…” he laughed nervously “Gosh, I sure hope so…”

Yuuri put a hand on his back. Victor let out a laugh “You know, this is funny: I didn’t have butterflies in my stomach because of a concert since I was fourteen.” He smiled as he leaned on Yuuri “it’s nice.”

Yuuri leaned against Victor, their fingers linking.

“Are you nervous?” asked Victor.

“M-mh.” Nodded Yuuri.

“Hey,” Victor said, looking at him. Yuuri turned towards his face, their foreheads brushing against each other.

“I cannot tell you not to worry, but you will be fine. You will be supported by Minako and Guang Hong, and I’ll make sure to do my job properly.” He pressed his lips against Yuuri’s forehead.

Yuuri smiled and brought his hand on Victor’s face, brushing his cheek with his thumb.

They kissed softly.

 

 Hirashi Morooka was waiting in the lounge of the concert hall with a program of the concert in his hands. It had been a while since he visited Hasetsu, probably around ten years or so which is when Minako-san retired from touring around the world and animating the small town’s concert hall with her recitals. He had not paid attention to the small town since then and thought nothing artistically exciting had the hopes to happen there for a long time.

Of course, there was Katsuki Yuuri, who by all means had showed to have incredible potential during those years, but who sort of slipped under everyone’s radar. Morooka had heard him play a few times for some radio recordings, and still held hope the young violinist could one day feature more brightly in the music world.

He glanced at the pamphlet he had already read five times whilst waiting there: he had no money to afford drinks like the other patrons, as he had just hopped on the first train there and was still to receive payment from his last article. He stared at the picture of the auditorium, and inside it a picture of Victor Nikiforov next to the conductor’s biography and a few words on the piece. There wasn’t much more to it, except for a list of the names of the different musicians, and short bios of the three solos and the first violin. Morooka was surprised to see Katsuki featuring there, although not disappointed at all.

Nishigori Yuuko and Takeshi, the manager and director of the concert hall showed up in the lounge.

“Attention please: the doors are open. Please make sure you have your ticket ready and to turn off your phones.”

Morooka glanced at his phone one last time to check if it was definitely off – it was, and headed towards the entrance.

 

Yuuri was taking deep breaths.

He didn’t think that playing with Victor would have been a big deal at this point: they had countless hours of rehearsals and countless hours of jamming around with their own instruments of their own. They had gotten incredibly close in the past month, and they basically shared every moment of their lives together, so the excitement for playing with a famous person he always admired since he was a kid was definitely tuned down, especially considering that this was Victor’s first time conducting in front of an audience, and he definitely was nervous about that.

But still, he couldn’t say he wasn’t getting anxious at all: he was playing a solo part in a concert whose members were already stable or recurrent members of famous orchestras in Japan and abroad, and Victor Nikiforov was at the head of it, accompanying them throughout an entire concert. He repeated the concept in his head a couple of times, to try and create some of that childish excitement for Victor being there to conduct them. It was Victor Nikiforov, the person he always admired.

But he couldn’t really get anxious about that: it seemed to Yuuri kind of a let-down, to be feeling this neutral towards playing together with his old idol, after more than a decade wishing about it and gushing about him. 

Instead, he felt ecstatic to be able to play with Vitya. With the goofy, hard-working musician who slept either too much or too little, was extremely strict about sound to the point of nagging and being a complete pain in the butt about it, and who kept forgetting the simplest things, like bringing his own violin during a lesson at the conservatoire where Yuuri was already practising for the day. The same person who was extremely good at managing Yuuri’s life, but incredibly inept at managing his own, and who kissed him one night after pining with jazz music on the piano in front of an entire orchestra because he couldn’t find the guts of asking Yuuri how he felt about him directly, and Yuuri had no clue about Victor having any feelings of that sort for him.

But he also felt anxious because, well, people were there. Journalists, musicians, critics, fans: people from all over the world had booked their tickets to come and see Victor’s debut in the conducting world, Minako’s comeback in the piano world, Guang Hong and Yuri Plisetsky’s performance… and maybe a couple of them to see his own. After all, he was the man who “stole Victor from the performance world”, like a not so nice fan put it on twitter. They were probably all there to see if it was worth Victor’s time to stay there and coach a potato like him.

His leg bounced restlessly on the leg of the stool he was sitting on: he was still waiting in the wings, as it was conventions for soloists to come after the entire orchestra entered the stage.

Victor was beside him, silent, paler than usual, his lips tight.

He put a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, and Yuuri put his on Victor’s, without even exchanging looks.

Yes, they were both nervous and excited about it.

“Deep breaths, моя котик.” Whispered Victor in his ear. Yuuri nodded frantically, exhaling a long breath.

Yuuko’s flashlight bounced against the wall of the wings. Victor came to meet her and they exchanged whispers.

“It’s time.” Murmured Victor to the three soloist “they are closing the doors now.”

They all nodded.

Victor fixed his bow-tie. He gave Yuuri a pat on his right shoulder “let’s have some fun.” He said, and proceeded to walk in the light of the stage.

 

Morooka clapped vigorously as Victor Nikiforov entered the stage in a tuxedo. He shook Yuri Plisetsky’s hand and bowed at the audience as he took his place in the platform.

The claps slowed down as Nikiforov brought the orchestra to a full A natural to make sure that everyone was in tune.

Then someone started clapping again, and everyone followed as the three soloists entered and shook Nikiforov’s hand in turn, taking their respective places and waiting for the performance to start.

Morooka leaned forward to see better from the balconies: Katsuki was really one of the soloist, this was an odd choice seen that he had less experience in leading compared to most of the other members of the orchestra. This would have been interesting.

The cellos started exposing the motive of the first movement, followed by the violins.

It was like a small yawn in the morning. It got pushed by two strong forte chords, and rolled down in a crescendo of sound.

Morooka held his breath.

It was not what he was expecting.

He was expecting good, but this was…

Well, it was not technically perfect, but it was, how could he explain this, ephemeral? It was a chase of all different emotions that disappeared as they came, followed by another, and another, and another.

It was very expressive. Very poignant.

Victor’s movements got smaller as the leading part moved to the solos, the cello and the violin, which circled around in a dance of sounds. The piano joined in the dance, asking peremptory and comedic questions to the violin, which answered timidly, and went on to a speech of majesty to which the orchestra echoed enthusiastically. The cello answered sweetly, reminding him of roses and adolescent love. The violin interjected, happily describing the joys of spring and the happiness of being loved. The piano modulated to a minor key, and encouraged the violin and the cello to echo it, as the orchestra put a veto to their increasing anguish. The piano went up on a scale and the violin and the cello started their lovingly dialogue again, echoed by the orchestra.

The whole symphony worked like a Greek play where three actors were backed up by a chorus of commentators.

Then the violin took the lead: it sounded upset, frustrated, echoed by the piano and just feebly interjected by the cello which seemed to try to calm it down. The piano scolded it: the violin feebly answered, but the piano interrupted it to have its saying.

The melody changed again, brought by a scale on the violin, echoed by the piano, and then by the cello, and climaxed with the orchestra, which re-proposed the main theme in a variation, a final comment before the wind, left alone, introduced the slow melodic cello line, a sweet repetition of the theme in a high tone. The violin echoed it, and the two played together in agreement.

The piano came in again, challenging the violin and the cello: the violin answered vehemently, backed up by the cello and interjected by the piano.

Morooka became increasingly aware of his breathe as the cello started another solo, a melancholic line which became playful as the piano joined in and dragged the violin with itself.

This was amazing.

He could imagine a whole story to this piece: every part, the orchestra and the soloist, they were talking, talking about many things, using tones and languages he could understand and which could touch his imagination without any effort.

Did Nikiforov do that? Did he really managed to achieve that his first time conducting?

The music flowed until the end of the first twenty minutes of the first movement, and Morooka could not take his eyes away from the orchestra: he usually found it hindering to his imagination if he looked at the orchestra, but Victor’s movements were charming and mesmerizing.

The second movement came in like the warm hug of a summer’s night.

It gave him the same feeling he had when he got home to his cat and cooked his favourite dish and started a cozy weekend after a hectic week: he was glad to be there in that moment and felt safe and happy.

Like a lullaby sang by a sweet parent when you are a small kid, or the soft kisses of a lover on your cheeks. This movement had an innocence and warmth that Morooka had only experienced a few times in his life.

If the second movement was a summer’s night, the third movement was a fresh morning. The solo parts became like three friends organising a scheme together, a prank to the entire town, which was the orchestra and, while it repeated the main theme of the movement, it did not sound very happy about their pranks. It was like hearing a group of adults scolding three children who kept messing up around the neighbourhood.  

 _Gosh, this orchestra is good_ , he thought. And Katsuki… Katsuki was just phenomenal: where did he hide that confidence all those years? He was smiling as he played the third part, contrary to his usual very serious face he had everytime he played, his expression shifted with the mood he was incarnating in that specific bar.

Him and Minako-san and the young Guang Hong brought the main theme to a circle, and the entire orchestra replied severely: the soloist created a cascade of sound which the orchestra interjected with chords, and closed the first piece.

Silence.

Morooka stood up “BRAVO!” he clapped.

Nikiforov turned around and bowed at the audience. So did the soloist. Then, he shook hands with each and every one of them as they stepped off the stage, and on the stage again to cherish more praise, and off stage again. Nikiforov left the stage.

The soloists entered again: Minako sat down the piano again, and the soloists looked at each other before starting…

Another melody.

An encore not put in the programme: it sounded cheerful, Morooka was quite certain it was Mozart. What, by Mozart, he did not know, but it had to be Mozart.

He laid still with a grin to his face as he looked at the three musicians as they danced on bouncy notes, distributing energy all over the auditorium.

He tapped the rhythm with his foot, following joyously the melodic line.

He was really looking forward writing about this.

 

“First part done!” shouted Mila as the orchestra assembled in the green room of the auditorium during the break. Emil high fived her “First part done!”

“That was so tense!” commented Sara “Oh, dear, there was a lot of people! I am not used to the audience not being obscured!”

“I’m so sorry about that” said Yuuko “unfortunately the only person who knows how to rig those lights is my father, and he is out of town at the moment. Takeshi is sort of useless with the op board.”

“Hey,” interjected Takeshi. Yuuko smiled teasingly “Well, it’s true. You cannot even dim lights. But anyway,” she said “most of the lights are burned off which is why we had to use work lights. We are meant to replace them in a week, and I am really sorry about that.”

“Don’t worry.” Said Sara “you let us use the space for so little, it’s okay. I guess.”

 

Yuuri was trying not to hyperventilate in the wings of the theatre. He preferred that to the crumpiness that the green room became during breaks. Victor was there with him, silently waiting for the break to end as he sipped from a sneaked-in bottle of water Yuuko did not know about, and rubbed his thumb on Yuuri’s hand.

He looked at Yuuri and smiled. He mouthed something at him.

 _You were great. I love you._ Read Yuuri.

He squeezed Victor’s hand in reply, as Victor took another sip before carefully hiding the bottle again out of Yuuko’s sight. He winked at Yuuri as soon as he did that, and put a finger to his mouth to incite him to keep the secret. Yuuri snorted, and had to cover his mouth with his free hand as there were probably audience members still in the auditorium. Victor leaned in and kissed him on the forehead.

Yuuri grabbed Victor by his sleeve, and placed a kiss on his cheek. Victor answered with a kiss on his lips.

And then they melt in a long kiss in the darkness and silence of the wings, interrupted only by the background noise of the audience shuffling on-stage.

“I am really proud of you.” Murmured Victor to his ear. Yuuri’s eyes softened as he felt his chest getting warm. He was so proud of Victor, too.

“You really looked like you had fun.”

“So did you.”

Victor smiled “were you?”

Yuuri nodded “Mh. What about you?”

Victor’s smiled got wider “Mh, I did. I hope this goes well, too.”

“It will.”

“You better not lose those violins behind you.”

“You better be clear with those hands.”

Victor blinked a couple of times “My hands are perfectly tuned and clear, thank you very much.”

Yuuri shrugged “mmh, I wouldn’t know about that.” He teased.

Victor took Yuuri’s chin “I shall prove myself so,” he said, his eyes locking into Yuuri “I shall show you what these hands can do.”

Silence.

Yuuri snorted, covering his mouth again “Sorry, it’s just your face was really…” he wanted to say _seducing_ , but that meant letting him score this one “… really funny.” He picked, instead.

Victor pouted “Oh, well.” He said “I shall show you anyway. Watch me conduct.”

“I already did.”

“… watch me again.”

“Alright.” Yuuri smiled: his anxiety had gotten to a manageable level again.

Victor smiled, as musicians started to flood the wings again.

 

Small crickets singing in the morning, particles of ice forming on leaves, and then the sound of the birds and the wind, which kept echoing amongst the trees. Something creeping in that landscape of whiteness and freshness, black clouds obscuring the sky. Birds flying away and squirrels running away from the precipitation that threatened to fall. Lightings, thunders.

Morooka wrote frenetically as he tried to list all of the things Nikiforov’s interpretation of _Winter Daydreams_ had brought to his mind.

The sweetness of the wind section, followed by the string section: a promise of love made during a break of sunlight in winter.

 _The adagio was superb, sweet and delicate, and carried out with infinite elegance._ He wrote in his notes. He scraped it away.

There was something in those two pieces, something that Victor brought to the stage which he never brought in before in his career: a sweetness and vulnerability which seemed so odd to his character. He had always had a good interpretation of Tchaikovsky and Beethoven, always knew how to represent when they were powerful and when they were monodic. Contrary to his other performances, this one was not technically perfect, but it has some authenticity that none of his other concerts had beforehand. They were good, this promised to be something else.

_It seems like Nikiforov, after shifting his career between the violin and the piano, finally found his rightful place in conducting: I have never experienced such a moving performance of Tchaikovsky’s first and such an entertaining performance of Beethoven’s triple concerto._

Victor read the review while drinking his coffee in the lounge of the onsen. Hiroko-san had bought a newspaper just for him and Mari had helped him translate the terms he did not know.

Yuuri was still sleeping, which, bless him, Victor had left him do as he tended to get exhausted when he had to deal with his anxiety.

“Hey, geezer!” snarled Yurio.

Victor greeted him happily “why, hello, Yurio!” he looked down to see a luggage “… what is that?” he asked.

“I’m catching a flight back as soon as the concert is over tonight.” Explained Yurio “Yakov has been nagging me forever now.”

Victor stretched a smile “as long as you don’t go away mid-concert.”

“Who do you take me for, you idiot?!”

Victor chuckled.

“Is that a review?” asked Yurio.

“It’s in Japanese.” Said Victor “but it’s good. They liked the concert and are telling people to come tonight.”

“Of course they did.” said Yurio “Although it’s a miracle considering your sloppy hands.” He added quickly.

Victor laughed “you should bring that up to Yuuri.” He said.

Yurio paled “Gross. Gross.”

Victor blinked a couple of times before putting a hand to his mouth “I DID NOT MEAN-”

“I DON’T CARE, YOU ARE STILL DISGUSTING, OLD MAN!”

“What’s happening here?”

They both turned to see a sleepy Yuuri approaching the table. Victor greeted him with a kiss on his cheek.

Yuuri pointed at the newspaper “what’s that?”

“Our review. It’s good.”

“Oh…” Yuuri glanced at it, but did not ask to read it.

Maybe he was still half-sleeping.

 

 

  

  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I AM SO SORRY FOR UPDATING THIS LATE!  
> So first I had that one essay on Mahler, right? Okay, I finished that, what happened is that I got two commissions one after the other as soon as I finished that one essay - so during the Christmas period, and then my computer broke so I had to repair it.  
> I still have to write the epilogue, I promise nothing! =p

**Author's Note:**

> And that is the prologue to my fanfic! I have already written a good chunk of it - I am planning to divide it in three series, and I am a few chapter away from the end of the first series, so don't worry about it not being completed. I made sure I had enough chapters before starting to publish so that I could be regular even with college duties! I have 16 chapters already written and more to come!
> 
> I shall update every week on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays.  
> I do not have a BETA reader at the moment, so let me know if there is any mishap you might have noticed.  
> I hope you enjoyed! Don't forget to leave kudos (and maybe a comment)! =D


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